


glenlivet & coffee, black

by neonheartbeat



Series: Filled Prompts [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accounting, Alternate Universe - Office, Awkward Boners, Bathroom Sex, Ben Is A Thirsty Hoe for Rey, Ben Solo Has Anger Issues, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Coffee, Cunnilingus, Dinner, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Emetophobia, F/M, Face Slapping, Female Ejaculation, Flowers, Gossip, Hangover, Lack of Communication, Maybe not so secret, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Rey Isn't Taking Anyone's Shit, Rough Kissing, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Sharing Clothes, Size Kink, Thicc Ben Solo, Vaginal Fingering, Vomiting, deadlines, groupchat, reylo au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-07-16 08:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonheartbeat/pseuds/neonheartbeat
Summary: Working for Galaxy Accounting is the job opportunity of a lifetime. That's what Rey keeps telling herself, up to the point she starts working directly under the acting CEO, Ben Solo, a notoriously antisocial, cold man with temper issues and no patience whatsoever for mistakes. Meanwhile, everyone else at Galaxy is trying to figure out what exactly is going on behind closed doors, and why their boss's attitude has slowly begun to change for the better.





	1. ACT ONE

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE ONE: The first act contains vomiting. If this is a huge issue for you skim over from "You could practically live here" to "Oh, I'm honored," and you should be fine. 
> 
> NOTE TWO: This is a filled prompt from @sofondabooks on tumblr, who requested: "modern office AU, busybody coworkers and a generous helping of Smut. oh and these phrases: “Everyone knows. Literally everyone"." Enjoy, D! <3

Rey stuck her bottom lip out and blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. It had fallen from the bun atop her head and dangled, very annoyingly, right in front of her nose.

"Do you have that spreadsheet done yet for the Erso report?" called out Rose Tico, who inhabited the next cubicle over.

"Give me five," she answered, and hunched over, clicking on the Excel icon with her right hand as she gulped down her latte with the other.

Working at Galaxy Accounting was _really_ the chance of a lifetime. She'd been shocked she'd gotten the job in the first place, eight months ago, and thrown herself into being as useful as she could for everyone out of sheer excitement. Her background in working with computers and coding had saved the company quite a tidy bit already, and she easily picked up on new things, climbing the ranks from an intern to working as a sort of minor assistant to Leia Organa, the CEO and sole owner of the firm. Leia was getting on in years and sometimes came in (usually on Fridays) to check on how things were running, and left most of the actual control in the hands of her son.

The one thing Rey couldn't quite pick up on was him. He came in early every morning, locked himself in his office, and left late at night. He barely spoke to anyone in the office, he wore tailored black suits that looked like they cost more than six months of Rey's rent, and his name was Ben. That was the extent of what Rey, or indeed anyone else working there, knew about him—aside from the fact that Kay, down in Legal, who had an office by _his_ office, swore he had a terrible temper.

Rey put that out of her mind as she re-read the numbers on the spreadsheet and saved it, emailing it over to Rose. "Sending it now," she told her.

"Thank you," Rose sang. Rey liked Rose. She was a girl about her age with a round, cheerful face, sparkling almond-shaped eyes, and a propensity for filling her entire cubicle with plants. Fresh out of college, she was also the workplace gossip, and always had something new to tell Rey every day. "I'll get this to Ms. Holdo and she'll get it to Mr. Solo."

Mr. Solo meaning Ben. "Seems like it would be easier if I just sent it straight to him," Rey said, idly clicking out of her program.

"What, and disturb the chain of command?" Rose chuckled. "He probably has no idea there's anyone else in the office besides him and Ms. Holdo."

Rey giggled at the idea. "Yeah, he'd see an email from me and go, 'Who the hell is _this_?'"

"Do you think his office is just, you know, draped in black like a vampire house or something?" Rose was fighting giggles herself.

Rey covered her mouth at the idea. "I mean, we never see him _leave_ ," she said, pretending to be shocked at her own discovery. "He might sleep in a coffin in the—"

The sound of a throat clearing behind her startled them both, and she turned to see, to her horror, Ben Solo himself, looming at her cubicle opening like a harbinger of doom. Rose's chair squeaked and she gasped, a faint little sound from behind the padded wall.

"Miss Tico," said Ben, staring at Rey. "Do you have the Erso report completed?"

Rey wanted the floor to open up and swallow her completely. She knew she was flushed as red as a lobster, and couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face. _Oh god. Oh no. I'm fired. He's going to fire me._

"I—yes, sir. I have it right here, Rey just finished double-checking the spreadsheet." Rose sounded strangled. "I was just emailing it to—"

"Ms. Holdo. Yes. I heard you." His eyes were still fixed on Rey, and she realized her glasses had slid down her nose and the errant lock of hair had drifted down in front of her eyes again. She shoved her glasses up with one hand and tucked the loose piece of hair into her bun again. "Along with a fascinating commentary about the chain of command. And some interesting speculation concerning my office interior decorating."

"I—" Rey finally found her voice. "I'm—"

"Miss Tico, email that report directly to me. Rey. My office. Now."

Rey got to her feet, her knees shaking, and followed him down the hall at a respectful distance, the blood rushing in her ears. She thought she might be sick.  She was an idiot. An idiot. She'd never get a job in any accounting firm again, she'd ruined her whole life, just because she had to open her stupid mouth at the wrong time and—

He opened the door to his office and held it open for her, indicating with a hand that she should walk through. She did, and looked around in amazement at the room that lay beyond the deserted entry area.

Everything was sleek, light colors with black accents, and one wall was entirely windows, floor to ceiling, covered by blinds that were currently open, letting the afternoon light stream in. His desk, an expensive-looking monolith of smooth black material that was _definitely_ not pressboard, was nearly covered in paperwork and folders and pens and sticky notes. Along one wall was a sideboard, with a tray holding a crystal decanter by a bottle of Glenlivet and two matching tumblers.

"As you can see. No coffin." He crossed the room and sat down in his chair, regarding her with a strangely expressionless face.

Rey sat down in one of the two thick chairs facing his desk. "I’m so sorry—we almost never talk about you behind your back, sir—"

"Almost never," he said, and raised one eyebrow. She flushed in spite of herself and made herself look at him in the face. The only feature that reflected his mother at all was the color of his eyes, a soft, warm brown. The rest of his face was like a hodgepodge of features that seemed to have been pulled from four different people and glued on. Mouth with full lips almost too wide for his small chin, which seemed to tilt to one side, a long face with strange angles and a sharp jawline, a large straight nose that would have been ludicrous on anyone else's face and appeared to have been broken at some point, and a smattering of freckles and moles across his light skin.

"It's not illegal to talk about people at work," she managed, and gripped the arms of her chair. What was she _doing?_ Talking to the as-good-as CEO like this?

"No, it isn't," he said, and swiveled, ignoring her for a moment as he brought up Rose's email and scanned the report. "You've worked here for eight months. Since you have started working here, there have been no mistakes or miscalculations whatsoever in any report you have worked on. Including the Andor audit, which was a nightmare to work through, as I recall."

Rey blinked. Was he complimenting her? "I—thank you."

"I've spoken to Leia and she has given me approval." He swiveled back around and looked at her. "So, unless you have an objection to being the personal assistant of a suspected vampire…"

Rey blinked. Once. Twice. He was offering her a _promotion._ She swallowed and shut her mouth with a snap. "I. I. No. I don't. Have an objection, I mean. Sir."

"Good." He stood up and walked to the entry door, and pointed to the empty desk there. "You'll move all your things in here today. Starting tomorrow, you answer directly to me and Leia, in that order."

Rey nodded. "Yes, sir. And…the pay raise?" She hated to bring it up, but it was sort of necessary for her to know.

Ben gave her a quick once-over, taking in her large, threadbare brown sweater and tweed slacks, the shabby flats she wore to walk to work. "Let's make it a raise of, say, three grand a month. Here." He crossed to his desk, yanked open a drawer, and pulled out a checkbook, scribbling on it before tearing it out and handing it to her. "You leave early today, and go get some appropriate work clothing. Business formal, please. This is client-facing, not backroom filing. Any questions?"

"No," squeaked Rey, holding the check without even looking at the number on it.

"Good. Dismissed. See you in the morning." He turned and walked back into his office, and she stumbled toward the door, adrenaline pumping like mad.

Rey didn't even remember getting back to her desk, but before she knew it, Rose was hurrying into her cubicle, her face white as chalk. "Oh, god. Oh no. Are you fired?"

"I'm—he gave me a _promotion_ ," Rey stammered, and looked down at the check. When she saw the amount on it, she thought she really was going to faint right there in her creaky swivel chair. "Holy shit."

Rose peered at the check and clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. "Holy _shit_ ," she squeaked. "What the hell is your new job?"

"His personal assistant," Rey said, and managed to get onto her feet to shove her belongings into a box. In went the framed photo of her at the beach with her graduating class. In went the cat-shaped tape dispenser, the box of pens she refused to share because she loved how they laid down ink, the magnets, the two paper lanterns, the motivational poster that was plain black script on white paper that read WORK FOR A CAUSE, NOT FOR APPLAUSE. She quickly stabbed a thumb drive into her computer and started to download all her projects.

Rose was already at her sister's desk, catty-corner to Rey's. "Paige! _Paige!_ Rey's Mr. Solo's new PA! Can you believe?"

"Well, she won't be there for long," said Paige, poking her head up from the other side of the wall. "All his assistants quit within a month, Kay says. Save your money, though. Pays great."

Rey suppressed a groan and hefted her box of things onto her hip. "I'll see you guys around," she said, and headed back to Ben Solo's office.

* * *

 

The next morning, she arrived bright and early for her first day, resolved to make it in before Ben got there. It was still dark, the morning light still breaking as she stumbled into the elevator in her new heels, clutching her purse and her coffee.

She desperately hoped she looked the part of a high-profile assistant to the CEO of a multimillion-dollar accounting firm. The dress had been on sale, a gray-brown thing that cinched at the waist with a belt and fell to just above her knees. It wasn't tight, but it was a good deal more revealing than her favorite sweater: sleeveless and fitted. She'd kept her makeup the same as usual: filled brows, mascara, nothing else but some concealer under her eyes. Hair: still up out of her face, but in a French twist instead of a messy bun.  She arrived at the office on the 30th floor, entered the main door with her keycard and hit the lights, then bent over to snatch up a folder in her inbox already, and thumbed through the written notes on the printed email inside, popping her reading glasses on her nose.

Ben had strangely neat and precise handwriting. Perfectly straight lines, with thin downstrokes. She wondered if he took classes somewhere. Did they teach penmanship at Ivy League schools?

A jingle of keys behind her alerted her to the presence of someone else, and she turned to see Ben, one hand in his pocket and the other clamped around the handle of his briefcase.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning," he said crisply, marching past her to get to the doorway of his office. He fiddled with his keys and unlocked the door. "I've called our network people to get your computer set up."

"Oh, that's all right. I can do it." Rey set the folder down and went behind the desk, bending over to look at the keyboard. Out of the corner of her eye, she just caught him glancing at her backside, eyes flickering over and going back to the door.

"Mmph," he said, and entered, leaving the door open.

Rey dragged her chair over and sat down, flushed hotly. Great. He'd talked up all her flawless accounting reports and now he was looking at her ass. Trying to put that out of her mind, she opened up her new computer, plugged in her thumb drive, and began to set up her workstation.

* * *

 

It became very clear within a few days that there was a reason Ben Solo did not have personal assistants stay for long. Most women (and some men for that matter) didn't handle shouting well, or outbursts of temper that ended in papers raining down from above after a folder was thrown against the wall. Most assistants would creep in, terrified, hear a quiet, even order of "pick that _up_ " and do as they were told, sorting the reports by hand and dumping them on the desk before fleeing in terror to the safety of the adjoining office.

Rey, however, was not most assistants.

"One moment, please," she said politely on Day Seven to the three waiting clients in her office-slash-reception room. A crash from the office punctuated her words, and she got up, refusing to look at their baffled faces, walked to the door, opened it, stepped in, and locked it. _At least I know the place is soundproofed._

"What the _fuck_ did I tell you about coming into my office—" Ben was livid, face scarlet with fury.

"You have three clients in your lobby," she said evenly. "Three reps from Darklighter and Co. Would you care to know how much money they're looking at having us handle for the IRS?"

"Get out," he snarled.

"Eighteen million dollars," she continued, as if she hadn't heard. "With a substantial fee they're willing to pay for our services. Do you think they're going to continue working with us if they think the CEO is an overgrown child with anger management issues?"

He looked like he wanted to break something. Instead, he shoved a pile of papers off his desk and slammed both hands on the mahogany, glaring at her. "You sound like my fucking mother."

"I'll take that as a compliment, sir." Rey pointed at the floor. "They're coming in. Three minutes. Fair warning. Now what in the name of God are you shouting about?"

"I can't find my notes from the audit on the Mothma Corporation." He was still looking as if steam might curl out of his large ears, but at least he wasn't shouting. "The deadline is today at four."

"I'll look around while you're talking to the Darklighter people. They can't have disappeared, that was a massive notebook." Rey crossed her arms. "Buzz me when you're ready to see them."

"Pick up these papers," he ordered, pointing to the pile he had just pushed onto the floor.

Rey felt her hackles rise. "I," she said calmly, "am not a maid. I am your PA. Pick it up yourself."

The tension hung in the air, his eyes locked onto hers. She stared right back, daring him to say a word.

His eyes narrowed. "Find the Mothma notes. Dismissed." He sat back in his chair and she felt his eyes on her all the way out the door. Probably glaring, she thought, her hands shaking just a little. But hey, small victories.

"Thank you for your patience," she said as she took her seat again. "Mr. Solo will be with you shortly."

* * *

 

The missing notes turned up on Paige Tico's desk. She had mistaken them for her own notes and picked them up in the conference room, and Rey sat outside Ben's door and listened to him chew her out for a good five minutes.

If it could really be considered a chewing out. He never raised his voice to the other workers, but he had a knack for making you feel like you were the worst person on the planet without a single note of inflection in his tone of voice.

Paige left, teary-eyed and red-faced, not even looking at Rey as she hurried past her and to the safe haven of the women's restroom down the hall.

Rey got up and poked her head into the door. "You didn't have to do that," she said.

"She needs to be more careful about what she picks up in rooms," he answered, not even looking at her as he transcribed his notes, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Are you finished with Legal? They needed to get us the research on Darklighter by the end of today."

"Yes, I forwarded you their response."

"Good. Shut the door on your way out."

Rey scowled and backed out of the door. Not even a thank-you. And his mother was always so kind and polite to everyone. Where on earth had he learned manners?

* * *

 

"I'm telling you, I think they have something going on," said Paige, still clutching a wet tissue and sitting with her sister in the breakroom.

"No _way._ " Rose covered her mouth.

"Uh-huh. Listen. You know Kay?"

"Yes, from Legal."

"Right. She said he was pitching a fit in his office, just raising hell about the missing notes. Rey went in there without even blinking and came out a minute later and he was _fine._ Behaving perfectly. Signed the deal with Darklighter. Bing, bam, boom."

"There is no way," said Rose. "No way. She's—Rey's never even had a boyfriend. Ever."

"I know! I thought she was _gay_! But there she is, in _dresses_ and heels and with her hair in something besides a college-student looking mess—"

"College student what?" asked Finn from payroll, opening the fridge. Rose jumped. She hadn't heard him come in.

"Oh, we're just talking about Rey," she said, eyeing up his rolled-up, tight shirtsleeves and bare forearms, exactly the shade of the deep wood trim in the kitchen. "You know. The old intern."

"Yeah, I know her. What about her?" Finn cracked open a soda and took a deep swig.

"She's probably sleeping with Ben Solo," Paige hissed, and Finn choked, soda flying out of his nose and all over the floor.

"Christ!" He mopped up his shirt with a napkin, eyes watering, as the girls both cracked up. "Sleeping with— _who_?"

"The _boss_!" Rose flushed in excitement. "He hired her as his PA a week ago and she's apparently got him under her thumb already. No idea how."

"Well, he did write her a check out of the firm's account for necessities." Finn cautiously sipped his soda again. "Oof, that burns." He wrinkled his nose.

"What?" Paige eagerly hung on every word. "What do you mean, necessities?"

"You know. I guess he wanted her to buy some new clothes. You've seen how she dressed before. Not very…business formal." Finn waved a hand distractedly.

"How much was the check—"

Rose interrupted her sister. "Five thousand dollars. I saw it when she came back to her desk to clear out."

Finn nodded. "Yeah, that's right. I thought it was a mistake until I double-checked."

Paige gaped in shock. "That's insane."

"Bet you she saved most of it. Smart girl." Rose wagged her finger. "I _know_ half her new dresses came off the bargain rack at Ross, and the only thing she looks like she spent money on is the shoes. I'm pretty sure she was wearing Louboutin on Wednesday. Not knockoffs."

"Maybe he has a thing for feet," Finn speculated.

"Oh, gross," said Paige, snorting.

"I'm just guessing!" Finn laughed. "No judgment. As long as it's above board and the finances aren't being misused. I'm going back to work. You two better do the same before someone finds you back here talking about…feet or something."

Rose waved him out, laughing. "No. This is totally staying between you, me, Kay…and Finn, I guess," she told Paige. "But seriously, though. _Feet._ "

* * *

 

Rey adjusted the front of her newest dress, a sleek white number she felt might look good in the pale front office. "Just don’t spill any food on yourself," she told her reflection sternly, and snatched up her handbag and keys, locking her apartment and rushing down the stairs in her comfortable flats, her heels poking out of her handbag. Technically Fridays were casual, but as a PA that didn't quite apply to her.

Four blocks from the office, her phone buzzed. She dug it out of her purse and peered at the screen as she waited for a green light.

**_Mr. Solo_  
                Congratulations. As of today you're the longest-sitting assistant I've ever had. **

She rolled her eyes and looked up to see if the crosswalk was clear yet. Her phone buzzed again in her hand and she looked down.

**_Mr. Solo_  
                Black coffee. Venti. No room for cream or sugar. **

Rey groaned. The nearest Starbucks was one block down and three to the right. "Could be worse. You could be in heels," she said to herself.

The light changed and she hurried across the street and down one block, making it to the Starbucks and slipping in the door. The atmosphere, as always, was warm and cozy, slightly manufactured, but nice. She waited in the queue, digging out the firm card she'd been given for firm expenses.

Her phone buzzed again. She sighed and yanked it out, thumbing the message open and juggling her purse and card with the other hand.

**_Mr. Solo_  
                And an evening bagel. Toasted with cream cheese.**

**_Mr. Solo_  
                *everything. No idea what an evening beagle is. **

**_Mr. Solo_  
                *BAGEL. **

Rey couldn't help snorting. She ordered his coffee and bagel and stood off to the side purse slung over her arm, texting him back.

**_Rey_  
                Got it. One evening beagle and one large black coffee coming right up. **

They called her name and she picked up the paper sack and the coffee before hurrying out, back down the street and turning to make the light. She managed to get to the building without any further texts, and stepped into the elevator, still balancing the coffee and bagel as she ascended to the 30th floor.

They slid open. She stepped out and saw that he was already in the office, first one in as usual. The doors were all unlocked.

She walked down to his office and set her things on her desk, shedding her purse and jacket. "Mr. Solo?" she called out.

"In here," he called back, from the depths of his office. His voice sounded strangely slurred and raspy.

Rey picked up the Starbucks order and walked in, frowning. It was dark, he'd drawn the blinds. "You want me to open the shades?"

"No. I have a hell of a hangover." He was sitting on the floor. She could just make out his dim form in the light, long legs stretched out, back against the desk. "Where's my evening beagle?"

She snorted. "Right here." His phone was still on, screen glowing by his hand, and it cast a strange light on his face. Rey knelt down and handed him the paper sack and the coffee. "Coffee first, then food. How did you manage to get here so early?"

"I never left the office," he said in a voice like sandpaper, and gulped his coffee down. It had cooled enough to drink, thankfully.

"What?" Rey sat back and squinted, and her eyes adjusted to see the empty decanter on its side, the glass on the floor by him. "You drank _all_ the Glenlivet?"

"Yep." He leaned his head back. "I think I'm still drunk. Don't tell my mother." His eyes slid over to her, bleary and pleading.

"What happened?" He'd never done this in the months she'd been working here, the month she'd worked for him—she'd never seen him touch so much as a drop of alcohol.

"We lost the Windwalker deal." Ben's voice was bitter, dark and angry under the slurring. "Turns out they committed massive fraud. IRS came down. Declared bankruptcy. We're out at least several hundred grand for our time. So." He gestured at the empty crystal. "Sorry you had to see me like this."

Rey shook her head. "It's like college all over again. Are you going to puke?"

"No. Maybe." His head lolled from side to side. "I don't know."

"I'll just go with yes. Stand up. I'll get you to a toilet. Although I can't really take you into the women's room—or the men's room—" Flustered, she tried to think.

"I have a private bathroom, you know," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"Oh. Good." Rey set his bagel on the desk and stood, holding out her arm. "Come on. If you hurl on the carpet you'll never get it out."

He peered up at her, seemed to consider it, and flung his long arm up, gripping her around the bicep as he hauled himself to his feet, using her as a sort of ladder. "Jesus," he mumbled, staggering against her. Ben was not a small man. He was easily six-three, with a long frame and thick muscle.

"How much do you _weigh_?" she said through her teeth, trying to steady him as he swayed.

"One-eighty," he said, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You?"

Rey wrapped her arms around his chest and guided him forward. "A buck twenty. Don't fall or I'll never be able to get you back up."

"I'll try not to," he muttered as they moved forward to the bathroom door. Rey shoved it open, revealing a fairly utilitarian lavatory with a granite countertop, sink, and mirror along one side, and a commode and shower along the other.

"You could practically live here," she said, and he groaned, somewhere around her shoulder.

"I think I'm—" His words were interrupted by a torrent of vomit, soaking the shoulder of her dress and soaking the side and front.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," she said, and pushed him over to the toilet, while he gagged and hurled round two into the water. She faced the mirror and pressed her hands to the granite counter, framing the sink in case she needed it. Her eyes watered and she prayed she wouldn't puke. It seemed to be a mixture of coffee and Glenlivet, judging by the smell, and she closed her eyes and tried to just tell herself that was all it was, coffee and booze, she was fine, and if could her stomach _please_ stop clenching that would be _great._

The urge to hurl passed. She looked behind her and saw Ben, still hunched over in front of the toilet, broad back shaking. "Sorry," he croaked.

"Two apologies in one morning. It's a miracle, happening right here at Galaxy. Call a priest." Rey caught sight of the stain on her white dress and felt her throat rise again. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to not be sick.

"You can use the shower," he said hollowly, into the toilet.

"I don't have clothes," she said. "A change, I mean."

"You can wear mine. Take—" He gagged again, the water in the toilet splashing, and Rey's mouth watered. _Oh god, no._ Her throat tightened, and she bent over the sink, gagging and clutching the handles of the faucet until it finally ended and she was breathing narrowly through her nose, tears in her eyes from the embarrassment and from the force of it.

"See, this is why your assistants all quit," she said, running water in the sink to wash her breakfast down the drain and wiping her eyes with a paper towel.

"I didn't throw up on any of them," he said thinly. 

"Oh, I'm honored." Rey plucked the damp material of her dress away from her skin. "You stay there with your back turned. I'm going to shower."

He grunted as he shifted his weight, and she unzipped the dress and peeled herself out of it, kicking it under the counter and shuddering. This was probably about 5 different HR violations at once, but she couldn't care less, she just desperately wanted a shower.

Rey stripped off her underwear and bra and hopped into the stall, turning the water as hot as possible and scrubbing down every inch of skin below her neck with a bar of soap and a body pouf she found hanging on a hook. Trying to keep her hair out of the water, she rinsed clean and closed her eyes, repeating _I will not hurl on the floor_ over and over until her stomach felt a little calmer and she was able to turn off the water and step out onto the mat.

"Towel?" she asked, shivering and covering herself with her arms.

"Under the counter." His head was still bent over the toilet, facing away from her, and she reached under the counter and snatched a towel, rubbing herself dry and tucking it under her armpits, tightly secured at the bust. Then she yanked her underwear, which had been miraculously unstained, back on.

"Where are your clothes?" she asked, her hands still pressed to her arms.

"Clean clothes. Um." He exhaled deeply and flushed the toilet. "Drawer. Left side."

Rey reached in and pulled out a crisp white button-down and a pair of men's slacks, along with a belt from under the counter. She got dressed quickly, cinching the slacks tight to her waist with the belt, which was far too big for her. "I look like a kid playing dress-up," she said, looking at herself in the mirror. Even worse, her bra was soaked with barf, so that wasn't an option. Fortunately she wasn't well-endowed, but still… _Dear God, let it not be cold in the office. Please._

Ben got to his feet unsteadily and braced himself against the doorframe. "No, it's like… Katharine Hepburn. Big shoulders, open collar, slacks. Looks good. Classic."

She put her hands on her hips. "If someone sees me in your clothes they're going to think—" She went pink. "That we did something. Because I'm wearing your clothes."

"Just sit behind your desk all day. I won't make you get up. Nobody will see anything but the shirt."

She extended her hands. "The shirt has your initials monogrammed on the sleeves."

"Then roll them up." He loosened his tie and bent over the sink, splashing water in his face, and she got a good look at him. Red-rimmed eyes, five o'clock shadow, hair a mess. "I'll get your dress dry-cleaned. And…" he leaned back to look at the pile on the floor. "Your bra." He gave her a slow, cautious look.

Rey went scarlet to her ears. "Just—oh, for the love of God." She marched past him and was nearly out the door when she heard him.

"Rey," he said softly, almost gently, and she paused, turning to look at him.

"Yes, Mr. Solo?" she asked.

His mouth worked as if he was trying to say something, but he gave up and looked down at the sink. "You can open the blinds in the office. I'll—I'll take care of the mess."

"Yes, sir," she said, and went back into the office, slipping her flats back on and opening the blinds, letting the pale morning sunshine flood the place in light blues and lavenders. The light sparkled on the empty decanter and the glass, and she hesitated for a second, then picked them up and set them gently back on their place, on the tray on the sideboard.

* * *

 

Rose sat down plump in the center of the breakroom chair at the head of the table. "Okay, so, I'm _not_ imagining things, right? Rey is wearing Mr. Solo's shirt?"

"It might not be his, but it's definitely a man's shirt." Paige Tico wrapped her hands around her coffee.

Kay frowned. "How can you tell?"

Finn pointed at his own shirt. "Buttons go the opposite way on women's shirts. They're on the left for women's shirts, and right for men's shirts. She's got on a man's shirt."

"Are you kids still going on about this?" asked Ms. Holdo, poking her head into the breakroom.

"Ms. Holdo, you worked with Leia for years. You've known Mr. Solo for longer than any of us. Has he _ever_ had a girlfriend?" Paige sat back, waiting.

The older woman's thin face worked for a moment, as if fighting some internal battle. "Oh, all right." She sat down at the table, her lavender-pink curls bouncing. "Look. I've worked with Leia for years. Ben is a weird kid... I say kid, but he's thirty-one. I'll always remember him as a grumpy teenager, I guess… Anyway, he's got a lot of issues, but he's good at what he does, and no, I have never heard of him having a girlfriend in the years I've been with Leia."

Poe, one of the CPAs, leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "Never?"

"Never." Ms. Holdo shrugged. "His priorities are work and work, in that order."

"Hobbies?"

She frowned. "I think he enjoys fencing. And boxing."

Poe ran a hand through his mop of dark hair and blew air out his mouth. "I mean. How do we know Rey didn't just buy the wrong type of shirt on accident, huh?"

Paige and Rose exchanged a look. "Um," said Rose. "Well. I went by to drop off a file and…" Her voice dropped, making everyone at the table lean in for the scandalous reveal. "Rey isn't wearing a bra."

Finn sat back and shook his head. "Unbelievable. They really are. Doing it, I mean."

"Obviously! She hasn't moved from the desk all day, either. That's weird." Paige ate another chip.

"Oh, my god, it's almost noon. Mr. Solo will be back from lunch soon. We have to get back to our desks." Rose looked away from her watch and motioned furiously. "Come on!"

* * *

 

Rey raced back from the restroom, hoping nobody would catch sight of her in her flapping, overlarge slacks. She slid back into her desk and turned to see a paper bag with handles and an absolutely massive bowl of flowers sitting on the middle of her desk, a card attached to the bowl.

She could hear the clicking of Ben's keyboard from the office. Quietly, she reached over and detached the card, opening it.

On the inside, in his neat, even handwriting, it read:

                 _Thank you._

She stared at it for a moment, realizing that she had never once heard him actually express gratitude for a single thing she'd ever done for him. Yet here it was, on a piece of paper, clutched in her fingers. Proof that he was, indeed, capable of saying _thank you_.

The flowers were beautiful. Roses blooming in white and pink and peach, geranium foliage, and—Rey leaned in and sniffed them, the aroma of roses and oregano wafting up from the white bowl.

She opened the paper bag, and inside found a bottle of wine that looked like it cost probably as much as the flowers, along with a humbler Styrofoam box of pasta, sauce, and garlic bread, still hot. Her stomach growled at the smell, and she realized he'd brought her lunch so that she didn’t have to walk outside for food in her current state of dress.

It wasn't until the door creaked that she realized the typing had stopped, and she looked up to see Ben in the doorway, his hands awkwardly at his sides.

"This is…" she trailed off, unable to express exactly what _this_ was.

"Don't quit this job," he said quickly, and Rey blinked at him. "You're the only assistant I've ever had who doesn't take my bullshit and still gets everything done on time and correctly. And you went above and beyond this morning."

Rey heard a soft noise from behind her and whipped her head around to see Kay, frozen at the end of the hallway with her mouth open. Quickly, the girl dashed across the opening and back to her office.

"I," she began again. Quitting hadn't even occurred to her, and she felt slightly weirded out by that fact. "No, of course I won't quit."

His whole body seemed to sag with relief, and she realized his whole body had been tense, waiting to see how she responded. "Thank you. I'll—I'll drive you home tonight."

"Oh, you don't have to—" Rey paled at the thought of her _boss_ , her insanely rich and weirdly handsome boss seeing her measly little apartment.

"Please. I'm responsible for this, so I'll make sure you get home safely." Ben half-turned to step back into his office. "Oh, and don't forget I need the—"

"Legal correspondence for the Ryu reports," she finished in unison with him, and shoved garlic bread into her mouth, flashing him a thumbs-up.

Ben's mouth quirked slightly in what might have been the embryonic stage of a smile, and he disappeared back into the depths of his office.


	2. ACT TWO

It was late evening when the lights in the building started shutting off. Ben emerged from his office with his briefcase and keys. "Ready?"

"Yep," she said, sliding her purse on over her shoulder.

She followed him out, clutching her enormous flower arrangement, to the garage, which she'd never been in before, and up to a sleek black Mercedes that almost looked like something out of the fifties, but was decidedly modern, and decidedly expensive-looking. Ben opened the passenger door for her and she slid in, tucking her knees to the side and settling the flowers on her lap.

The interior smelled like a new car. The seats were leather, the dashboard gleaming wood. A wide center console separated the driver and passenger seat. Ben crossed to the driver's side and slid in, keys in the ignition.

Ambient red lighting flicked on in a line around the dashboard and the console as the car roared to life, and Rey said, "Whoa." She leaned over and peered into the backseat, and the lighting glowed there too, deep ruby in the dark.

He turned his head—was that a smile? She couldn't tell. "Sixty-four colors available. Want me to change it?"

She fought a smile of her own. He was like a kid, showing off a toy. "You got blue?"

Ben reached over and fiddled with a button, and the lights switched to deep cobalt. "Better?"

"Wow." Rey was impressed. "What kind of car is this?"

"Mercedes-Maybach S-class sedan." Ben put the car in reverse and it backed up, purring like a cat. "Don't ask me about the engine or the features, because I'll talk all night. Where to?" Rey gave him her address, and he keyed it into his phone, then pulled into the street. "About five minutes away. You walk to work?"

"Every day," she said.

"Mmm," he said, and they sat in comfortable silence until he was pulling up to the curb of her building. Modest, not tumbledown but certainly not expensive.

"You can let me out here," she said, fumbling with the door.

"Oh, I can get that. Hold on." He slid out the driver's side, and she waited until he opened the door for her and she stepped onto the sidewalk. "Which, um. Which unit is yours?"

"Oh, I'm on the third floor," she said from behind the flowers. "Um, you probably don't want to walk up with me."

"Why, because I'm a rich guy who might faint if he sees normal people existing?"

She had to laugh at that. "All right. You asked for it. Lock the car and walk me up."

Six flights of stairs later, she was fumbling with her key and shoving her door open while Ben held the flowers. It still stuck, and she made a note to get maintenance up there at some point. "Here we are." She stepped in and flicked the light, and awkwardly looked at Ben, who was standing outside the threshold. "Well, come in, and take off your shoes." He stepped in and looked around, looking hilariously out of place in his expensive suit and tie as he toed out of his leather oxfords. Her apartment was small (she liked to think of it as _cozy_ ) and everything in it was shabby and outdated, but neat and clean. She'd taken a page out of Rose's book and added several houseplants, too, and she'd tried to get an accent color going in the living area, but it had wound up exploding into several different colors, giving her living area the general look of a large tropical bird, or a hippie's skirt. "So. Fainting yet?"

"This is nice," he said, sounding almost surprised. "Do you want me to, uh put these—"

"Oh, set them on the coffee table," she said, clearing the stack of magazines and books to one side. "Right there."

He carefully set them down, and she considered the placement. "Flowers really do brighten up a room," she said, smiling. "Thanks for these. I might dry some and use them as decorations."

Ben looked up at the ceiling. "You've got some water damage."

"Oh, yeah. The upstairs neighbors overflowed their tub last week and I haven't been able to call management yet." She added that to the mental list. "So. Do you—um, do you want to hang around? I can make coffee. Or if you have something else to do—I mean, you probably have a busy life—"

"I don't," he said, looking at her sideways. "Have anything going on, I mean. Tonight. You?"

"Not at the moment," she said, and went to the small kitchen off the living area to start the coffee.

He was looking at her photos, the framed ones on her desk. "Your friends?"

"College friends," she said, getting two mugs off the shelf. "We try to keep in touch, but a bunch of them moved out of state, or got married, or whatever. It's nice to remember, though."

Ben glanced back at her. "Married, huh? But you're not—" he paused.

"I'm not what?" She pressed the brew button on her pot, leaned against the counter, and crossed her arms.

"You don't have a…person. A partner." He was slightly flushed. "I mean—"

"No, I don't have a boyfriend," she said. "Is that what you're asking me? If I—"

"Yes. That's what I was asking." He seemed to relax minutely. "I've never…had a girlfriend."

 _Kind of a weird thing to tell your PA._ "Too busy with work?"

"That's part of it." Ben sat down on her sofa, and didn't elaborate further.

The percolator beeped, and Rey turned back, pouring him a mug of fresh, black coffee, and herself one with creamer, and carried them out to the coffee table, pushing his at him. "Here."

He lifted it and sipped. "That's good," he said, eyebrows lifting.

"I get it fresh-ground from a hipster down the street at the farmer's market," she said. "Pretty good if you know what you're looking for."

They sat in silence for another few minutes, until the mugs were both empty.

"I…don't normally make a habit out of visiting the personal homes of my assistants," said Ben after a while.

"Well, I've never been thrown up on by my boss, and then have to accept a ride home from him," Rey countered.

He grimaced. "It won't happen again." Both his dark eyes fixed on the corner of her coffee table. "According to company policy, there's no issue with coworkers being…together, outside work, as long as there's no misuse of company assets."

Rey digested that for a moment. "Well, we aren't really coworkers," she said, setting her mug down. "You're my boss."

Ben hesitated. "And company policy states that two people in unequal positions within the company _probably_ shouldn't form personal or romantic relationships outside work due to liability, but as long as there's no conflict within the office and both parties are all right with it—"

"Wait, are you—" Rey gaped. "Are you asking me on a _date_?"

"I'm," he said, cheeks flooded with color. "I don't know _what_ I'm asking. But—whatever I'm asking, if you don't want any part of it, I completely understand, and I won't be an asshole to you about it at work, is what I'm saying. Any more than I already am, I mean."

Rey blinked in shock. This morning he'd been hurling all over her and now he wanted—"Mr. Solo—are you sober? Like, completely sober. You're sober right now?"

He chuckled. "See, plenty of people would be jumping for joy and grabbing my checkbook right about now. Your response is to ask if I'm sober. Yes. I am."

She gaped. "We haven't even—done anything. Remotely romantic. We don't even know if we—I don't even know if I'm _attracted_ to you like that."

Ben looked up, eyes meeting hers. "All right. So how would you know?"

Rey considered. "I—I guess maybe we could… kiss? Just to test it out. And then I'd know if there was something there."

He swallowed and slowly scooted over to the side, making room for her to sit.

Rey stood up and sat down, close enough to touch him. _What am I doing. WHAT am I DOING. This is my BOSS for fuck's sake—_

He reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and behind her ear, and she froze at the touch, her heart pounding somewhere deep inside her, her stomach in knots. "Don't be afraid," he murmured.

Rey leaned forward, trying to stop her hands from trembling, and bumped her nose into his. She could smell the coffee on his breath, bitter and dark. "Oh, god damn it," she said, and pressed her mouth to his.

Both his hands came up, clutching at the shirt she wore. Rey opened her lips against his and felt his tongue slip over her bottom lip, teeth nipping at her softly. Warmth gathered somewhere between her legs and oh god, she was _wet_ already, what the _fuck_. Ben's hands were huge, covering her entire back, it felt like. She grabbed the lapels of his expensive, stupid suit and yanked him closer, one knee sliding forward and past his hips.

He moaned and broke the kiss, his hair in his eyes, his eyes bright and dilated despite the lights in the room. "Shit," he said, half-growling the word. "Shit, shit."

"What?" she gasped, trying to catch her breath. "What's wrong?"

"I can't. I can't—" He roughly shoved her off his lap, where she had somehow ended up, and stood, almost knocking the coffee table over. "I—"

Rey stood up, half-angry at him. "I thought you wanted to—"

"I _do_ , it's just that you're my goddamn assistant, and I shouldn't have—taken advantage of—"

"Taken _advantage_ of?" Rey's temper didn't flare often, but when it did, it did. "Now you listen to me, Ben Solo. I'm not a goddamn Jane Austen protagonist. Taken advantage of, my ass. I _know_ that if I said no you wouldn't make me miserable. I _wanted_ to kiss you, so I _did_ , and if you try to spin that I'll—I'll—"

"You'll what?" he snapped. "Take a hefty payment from the firm to keep you quiet about this?"

Her hand flashed up, quick as a snake, and she belted him across the cheek. He staggered, hand clutching his face, and stared at her in shock.

"Don't you _dare_ imply I'm in this for _money,_  you—you—"

"Oh, my god," he said, stunned, in a strangely throaty, tight voice, and bent over slightly at the waist.

"You—" Rey's eyes traveled down to his fly, and she turned bright red. "Oh, my _god_ , do you have a _boner_?"

"None of my assistants have ever _slapped_ me before!" He was crimson to the ears, still bent awkwardly.

"You have got to be kidding me." Rey snatched up the empty mugs and marched them to the kitchen, dumping them in the sink. She came back into the living room and crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Look, if you don't want this then go. Just go. And we won't talk about it again. But if you do, then be honest with me, and don't fuck around with me."

He raised his head and looked her dead in the eyes, looking helpless and desperate at the same time. "I do," he said. "I do want this."

"Well, thanks for clearing that up. It better not be your dick talking," she said, and grabbed him by the face, kissing him savagely across the mouth. He groaned and yanked her close, both of them crashing onto her sofa, Rey on top.

"Oh, god," she panted, heat flooding her body. "Get your pants off."

"Are we," he said, between kisses. "Are we. Doing this here. Or. Bed."

Rey growled, his lip between her teeth, and let him go. "We're doing something here and something else in bed. Pants. Off."

He obeyed, yanking his fly down and kicking his slacks down around his knees and off his ankles, dumping them in a heap on the floor with his belt. His dick strained through the red fabric of his boxer-briefs, and Rey pressed her hand along the length. He was longer than her whole hand, and thick as hell, and she really, really fucking hoped he knew how to use it.

"What are we doing _here_?" he asked, grunting as she palmed his cock through his underwear. "Shit. What are you—"

"I'm going to suck your dick, first of all," she said, and hooked her fingers into his waistband. "Hold still and don't thrust into my throat, and don't face-fuck me."

"Christ," he said under his breath. "Bossy, aren't we?"

For answer, she pulled his shorts down and licked his cock from base to tip while she pulled them completely off his legs and tossed them over her shoulder. He stiffened and made a couple of high-pitched noises, then stuffed his fist in his mouth. "Shit. _Shit."_

"Legs up and apart," she said, tapping his knees. He shifted so that he was spread open on the edge of the sofa, thighs bracketing Rey's head. She licked his cock again and felt him shudder. "Sensitive, aren't we?"

"It's been," he managed, as her tongue started working again. "A long—very long—time. Since I. I. _Rey._ " He squirmed, and Rey popped her lips off the head of his cock. "I have. I have a twenty minute refractory period. You should know."

"Thanks for the information," she said, and dived back down, his dick pushing the back of her throat. She couldn't take the whole thing, but she could take enough, and from the way he was panting and moaning above her, it seemed to be working.

"Jesus Christ. Rey." His hand found her hair, fingers delicately cupping the back of her head as she hummed and licked and sucked. She curled her fingers around his thighs and wondered how the hell she'd ever thought he was lanky—his thighs were massive, corded tight and tense as she moved. Up and down, over and over. Saliva was beginning to leak past her lips, squelching as she moved, and her eyes were beginning to water.

Above her, Ben's breath hitched and his abdomen tensed. "I'm gonna. Rey. I'm gonna _come_. I'm—"

She waited until the very last second, and when he let out a hitching gasp she popped her mouth off him and sucked a hard, quick love-bite into his delicate inner thigh.

" _Aaah, shit!_ " he yelped, jerking forward. His cock, pressed up against her cheek, was pulsing; come striping the side of her face, her hair. "Shit, _Rey, fuck_ —" Ben curled inward, his heels on her lower back, and gripped her head as he came and came and came. "Fuck," he panted, all the way through it on repeat. " _Fuck._ " He bent his head down towards hers, legs shaking.

She kissed his softening dick and leaned back, looking up at him. "Now," she said, "you're going to return the favor."

"Oh, god," he moaned. He'd bitten his own lips until they were red and swollen, his whole body was flushed with heat, and he looked fairly wrecked. "Get up here right now."

"Yes, sir," she said, and a shudder went through him as she shucked off her too-big pants and underwear, stepping out of them and kicking them aside.

Interesting. Rey sat down, legs open, next to him on the sofa. "I might just come to work on Monday commando," she said, and his eyes flickered up, found hers, and did not leave her face as he shifted over and crawled closer and buried his mouth at the juncture of her thighs.  "Oh, god," she panted. His tongue was moving, his nose was pressing against her clit. "Give me a finger."

He lifted his head and smirked, face wet. "Say please."

"Give me. A finger. Please." Rey gripped his head as he dove back in, and one thick finger gently rubbed and teased and pressed past her opening. She groaned and tightened her grip on his hair. It wasn't enough. "Another one— _please_ ," she hissed, and he added a second finger, then a third without being asked. Rey huffed and writhed beneath him as he pressed and pumped his fingers in and out of her, his mouth working gently over her, and without warning she was coming, clamped down tight as a vise around his fingers and trapping his head between her legs. "Shit! _Shit!"_

"Mmm," hummed Ben, and waited until she had gone limp before pressing a sloppy kiss to her thigh and ducking out from under her legs. "You were saying something about the bed."

"I don't remember," she breathed, dazed and boneless.

"Where's your room?" She felt him move, get up; his warmth gone. _No, come back,_ she wanted to say.

"Through the door," she said, and he was slipping a thick arm under her shoulders, the other one beneath her knees, lifting her like she was nothing at all. She clung to his neck and buried her face in his shoulder as he walked, kicking open her door (which thank fuck, was already open otherwise he might have broken the lock) and set her down on her bed.

She revived a little out of the haze of endorphins to watch him loosen his tie, yank it off, and start unbuttoning his shirt. Ben never took his eyes off her, as if he was afraid she might disappear before his eyes. He stripped off his shirt, then his undershirt, and stood there looking at her, completely naked except for his socks.

Rey sat up and unbuttoned her shirt (his shirt) her fingers fumbling awkwardly with the backwards buttons. "Damn it," she said, exasperated, and he reached down and grasped the collar with both hands and _yanked,_ every button popping off the shirt and clattering across the floor as he tore it open and kissed her.

"That was Armani," she panted between kisses.

"I'll buy a new one," he said, and pressed his palms to her breasts. "Jesus Christ." Ben's voice had gone rough, and he crawled up on the bed, mouth traveling down to her chest. She groaned and clutched his hair as his wide mouth found her right nipple.

"Fuck me," she demanded, half out of breath. "God dammit, _please_."

He let her breast out of his mouth with a soft _pop_ and nuzzled up her throat. "Impatient. Give it a minute."

"Maybe I should slap you again." She traced the lines of his back with a hand.

Ben made a funny little noise and she felt hot air puff against her skin. "Next time. Maybe."

"Let me be on top." Rey didn't wait for a verbal answer, but he let her roll over on him, pliant and huge and looking like he'd just _love_ to be at her mercy. "You really are gorgeous, you know that?"

"You don't have to lie to me," he said softly, hands stilling on her waist. "You don't—"

"Shut up. I'm not." Rey bent down and kissed him on the mouth again, her hands holding his wrists down. "All right. You're weird looking, but it works. It _definitely_ works." She punctuated that with a roll of her hips, and his breath caught slightly.

"No one's ever told me that," he said.

"Seriously?" Rey bent down and mouthed at his jawline, and he stiffened slightly with a little noise. "It's like…you know that one statue of Lucifer that the Church had to order a recommission of because he was too pretty and all the girls were getting distracted?"

" _L'ange du mal,"_ Ben said in perfect French, and Rey closed her eyes and willed herself not to spontaneously combust. "Replaced by _L'g_ _énie du mal._ Yes. I know."

"It's like that." Rey pulled back a little to look down at him and let go of his wrists. "The second statue was even hotter. Joke's on the Church."

"Mmm." He reached up and cupped the back of her head, fingers combing through her hair. "I'm not sure if I'm flattered or not." But his pupils were wide and dark, and his face was flushed.

Rey stroked his hair and rocked back a little. "Ooh, what's _this_?" she said, wiggling her hips back against his dick, which was fully hard again and pressing against her ass. "Looks like you're ready for round two."

Ben caught his breath and tightened his grip on her. "Get on your back," he said, his voice dark and brittle.

Rey slipped off him and rolled over, and he rose up, crouching between her knees. One hand grabbed her right thigh and lifted her leg so that the back of her knee was pressed against his shoulders, and she lifted her left leg to follow suit. Ben glanced down, already sweating, and let his fingers trace over her still-wet and swollen flesh, thumbing up against her clit.

"Oh, god," Rey said, legs trembling against his chest. "Just fucking— _fuck_ me—"

He kissed her knee and she felt him line himself up, then push in, slowly.

Rey's back arched and she shrieked, then slapped a hand across her mouth. The fucking _angle—_ it felt like he was touching every nerve she had, and some she didn't know she'd had and oh god he was _still_ pushing in, how fucking big _was_ he—

Ben bottomed out, breathing heavily, one thick arm pinning her legs in place against his chest. His hair had fallen into his face. "If it's too much, tell me," he said, voice sounding thin and strangled.

Rey tried to remember how to talk. She was flexible. She could take it. "Don't stop," she forced out, between her fingers. "Fuck."

He exhaled slowly, pressed his free hand to her chest, and began to roughly thrust his hips.

Rey convulsed and dug her fingers into her duvet, trying her hardest not to scream. He was hitting the fucking _front_ of her insides, pushing her G spot, and she'd never in her life felt anything like this in bed before with anyone, ever, and she couldn't get her mouth to work in time to warn him. Rey squeezed her eyes shut and let out a garbled, incoherent wail, and she couldn't stop it. Her whole body seized up and she spluttered and tried to tell him but it was too late, too late; and hot liquid was gushing out of her, soaking his abdomen and her legs and the bed and it wouldn't _stop_ , it just kept coming.

"Oh, holy shit," said Ben, half-choked. "Holy _shit._ "

"Aaarggeuugh," said Rey, clinging to the headboard. "Keep. _Going_."

He twisted his hips and started fucking her again, deep and steady, and she sort of forgot what was happening and lay there, moaning, until she came again helplessly, another wet flood of whatever soaking them both. Ben rolled her over to her side and fucked her from the top, wet squishy sounds with every movement, and she clutched his hand, planted in the duvet, as he moaned above her and finally came, shaking, his head pressed to her shoulder as he pulled out and frantically jerked off on her waist. She could hear him making little noises, frantic and rough and throaty, and she thought maybe next time she should watch him come.

He hovered for a second, panting, and slid down to his side, pressed along her front to back, one hand shaking a little on her hip. "I—"

They were interrupted by a pounding on the other side of her wall. " _It's eight-thirty! Fucking keep it down!"_

Rey stirred, but Ben was already sitting up, infuriated. He pounded back on the wall. "Go to bed at ten like a normal person!" he shouted. "It's a fucking Friday!"

" _Fuck you, asshole!"_ Her neighbor turned on music, and the sound of very loud banjos and bass thumped through her wall.

"Who does this guy think he—" Ben was bristling.

Rey rolled her eyes and sat up. She twisted around and knocked on the wall in a little rhythm. "Finch? It's Rey."

The music's volume lowered.

"Sorry about the noise. We'll be quiet."

Ben looked outraged. From the other side of the wall, the music snapped off, and Finch, the unseen neighbor, said, " _Your new boyfriend's a dick, Rey."_

Rey stifled a snort. "Yeah, he's a piece of work. I'm working on him. Sorry again."

" _Nah, have a good one."_  

"See?" Rey turned to Ben. "De-escalation. An important communication tool."

"Point taken," he said. "New boyfriend, huh?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she said, grinning. "Ugh, I'm going to need to wash these." Her bed was half soaked, and she pressed her palm into the duvet to test the dampness.

"You probably need a shower, too," he said. "You've, uh." Ben gestured to her head. "Got some, uh, stuff in your hair."

"Oh, fuck." Rey pressed a hand to her hair, which was indeed crusty on the left side already from where he'd come all over her. "I'll just—" She slipped off the bed and immediately her wobbling legs gave out. Ben caught her and pulled her back on the bed.

"Maybe give it a minute."

"Yeah." She stretched her legs and grimaced. "Oof. Maybe a few minutes."

"Maybe twenty minutes," he said, leaning close, and she shivered as his lips closed around her ear.


	3. ACT THREE

Rey was rudely awakened by the sound of her phone buzzing with a text. She groaned, blinked the morning sun out of her eyes, and reached for her phone on the nightstand.

 _ **Mr. Solo**_  
                **Hope this doesn't wake you. I took the liberty of washing your sheets after you passed out on the floor. They're in the dryer.**  
**Duvet** **has been sent to the dry-cleaners under my account. Your mattress survived. Have a good weekend. See you Monday.**

Rey squinted at it and sat up, looking down. She'd been laid out on the stripped bed and covered with a throw blanket from the living room.

Oh, and she was bare-ass naked.

A pleasant ache spread through her legs as she swung them out to the side of the bed, stretched, and stood up. Her whole body felt like it had been put through a wringer, and she was really, really thirsty.

_I slept with my boss. Holy shit, I slept with my boss._

Rey threw her phone to the middle of the mattress. "You," she said to it, "are being left on read until I can figure out what the _fuck_ happened last night."

She gulped down orange juice and tried to think. He'd kissed her again and they'd ended up on the floor somehow, and…she remembered him licking her open again, face buried between her legs like he'd never tasted anything so good. The memory sent a shiver through her and she tamped it down, putting her glass in the sink.

Breakfast. She needed breakfast. And maybe a mimosa. And then, maybe, she could think about what the hell she was doing with her life.

And maybe, you know. Text Ben back.

 

* * *

 

**GALAXY TEACHAT**

_**Rose**_  
                **Is anyone upppppp yetttt**  
_**Paige**_  
**omg bitch… it's eight am on a SATURDAY**  
_**Rose**_  
**Security guy says he saw Mr. Solo and Rey leave together last night and she was DEF wearing his clothes**  
_**Rose**_  
**like, they were way too big for her?? And she was carrying those flowers Kay saw on her desk**  
_**Kay**_  
**Omg she took the flowers HOME??**  
_**Paige**_  
**Or to HIS home?? Did he drive her to her place**  
_**Rose**_  
**I mean I guess?? She wouldn’t have taken the flowers to HIS house**  
_**Paige**_  
**omg. Omgomgomgomg. He went to her HOUSE**  
_**Finn**_  
**swear to god if you don't stop blowing up my phone you're all getting your pay docked**  
_**Finn**_  
**that was a joke**  
_**Finn**_  
**nobody appreciates a good payroll joke**  
_**Poe**_  
**WAIT I JUST OPENED THIS. REALLY HE TOOK HER HOME**  
_**Kay**_  
**YES PAY ATTENTION POE**  
_**Paige**_  
**KAY tell poe what you heard Mr. Solo say when you were going back to your desk**  
_**Kay**_  
**Oh my goooddddd right so I was walking back to the office and I passed by his office you know how it sort of sits weird at the                      end of that short hall and opens to Rey's desk, that little sitting area??**  
_**Poe**_  
**yes go on**  
_**Rose**_  
**yeah**  
_**Kay**_  
**right so I was walking past and he's like standing there with this HUGE bowl of flowers that I swear looked like they cost                              hundreds of dollars and he goes "please don’t quit, you're the only assistant who puts up with my bullshit and you went above                      and beyond this morning" LIKE???? MASSIVE PUPPY EYES. ON BEN SOLO. BEN. SOLO. OUR BOSS. PUPPY. EYES.**

 _ **Poe**_  
**oh my god no**  
_**Finn**_  
**oh my GOD**  
_**Rose**_  
**WHAT. DID. I TELL YOU. GUYS**  
_**Kay**_  
**LIKE WHAT COULD ABOVE AND BEYOND MEAN. WHAT. COULD. IT. MEAN.**  
_**Amilyn**_  
**Alexa, play Make a Move by Gavin DeGraw.**  
_**Rose**_  
**LMFAO MS HOLDO**  
**_Paige_    **  
**who told ms holdo about memes…**  
_**Amilyn**_  
**I don't need anyone to tell me about Internet jokes. I am 57, not 100 and decrepit.**  
_**Finn**_  
**So do you guys think he stayed at her place or what**  
_**Amilyn**_  
**Leia did mention he didn't pick up at the house phone last night when I spoke to her this morning. So…**  
_**Poe**_  
**I literally hate all of you for making me read this with my own two eyes**  
_**Rose**_  
**Do you think he's like secretly REALLY into being bossed around or like**  
_**Paige**_  
**I mean apparently Rey's into it soooooo? But afaik he never dated ANY of his other assistants or secretaries or whatever, they all                      quit because he throws tantrums and they tiptoe around him and can't take the stress and I DON’T BLAME THEM**  
_**Finn**_  
**Tbh I haven't heard him yelling at all in the past week and a half**  
_**Rose**_  
**I mean look if he found another outlet for that by all means it should be encouraged because I'm kinda liking not having to feel                        like I'm walking on eggshells,  and he made Paige cry the last day he threw a fit >:(**  
**Amilyn**  
**No, he certainly didn't ever date any other assistants. He also didn't give them his clothes or drive them home at night or buy                           anyone flowers at all. Very emotionally distant.**  
_**Poe**_  
**He actually remembered my name when I poked my head in to drop off that report on Wednesday too**  
_**Rose**_  
**I thought dating subordinates was against policy??**  
_**Amilyn**_  
**No, it's fine as long as no misuse of firm money is going on and as long as both parties are comfortable and not pressured. For                      instance if he implied she'd lose her job if she didn't go out with him or if she threatened to blackmail him if he didn't date her.**  
_**Paige**_  
**how do you ensure that isn't the case though**  
_**Amilyn**_  
**HR is always open to anyone who feels uncomfortable and we also have a confidential seminar every six months about social                          pressure and sexual harassment**  
_**Finn**_  
**oh I remember that**  
_**Rose**_  
**maybe I should ask her?? Like not come right out and be like ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH THE BOSS but maybe saying I noticed x y                       and z and is she okay**  
_**Amilyn**_  
**I think that would be a wise approach. Being his assistant is stressful enough and it's certainly a point of interest she's lasted this                   long.**  
_**Rose**_  
**okay I'll ask Monday if I get a chance**  
_**Poe**_  
**great now let me go back to sleep in peace THANK YOU**

* * *

 

 **  
** Monday dawned bright and clear and crisp, the autumn sky a lovely October blue. Rey walked to work, smiling the whole way, just for the weather and the nice bubbly feeling in her stomach that hadn't quite left since Friday night. She felt almost daring, and very sophisticated, so she'd gone shopping Sunday and bought a new outfit.

White cashmere turtleneck. Black blazer. Black pencil skirt with a slit up the side. She'd decided to wear her hair down, and it blew in the wind, just below her shoulders. She'd carefully put on some lipstick, too—not a lot, and not very bright, but a nice berry-red shade.

Once she was in the building and the elevator discharged her on the 30th floor, she made her way to her desk and slipped off her flats under the desk, shoving her Louboutins on and teetering around the front to flick the lobby lights on. She could smell coffee brewing in the nearby breakroom, and thanked her stars that someone had beat her to it.

Rey bent to tuck her purse into the drawer it usually occupied, and heard a strangled sort of noise from the office door. "Oh, good morning, Mr. Solo," she said automatically, before she desperately fought a blush at the memory of Friday night.

Ben was standing in the door, impeccably dressed as always, a mug of coffee in his hand, just staring at her with his lips parted and his eyes ever so slightly widened. "Good... morning," he said, and gulped at the coffee. "Nice, uh." He gestured with the mug. "Outfit."

"I thought—something more professional," she explained, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she struggled with the drawer. "It's not too—I don't look silly?"

His throat bobbed. "No. You look nice. Your hair—" He took another swallow of coffee. "It looks nice like that."

"Oh. Thanks." Rey beamed at him and stood up straight, smoothing her skirt down.

"I made coffee. It's in the breakroom." He gave her another quick, appraising look up and down, and retreated into his office. "And I need the spreadsheet from the Ryu report!" he called from within. "Deadline's at three!"

Rey chuckled and headed to the breakroom. Nobody else was in the office at this early hour, and she poured herself a cup from the enormous carafe. _I didn't even know he knew how to use a percolator._ She dumped in creamer, took a sip, and realized it was _her_ coffee, the brand she got from the farmer's market that he'd liked so much. A quick look through the cabinet confirmed it.

Well. Small miracles abounded. She went back to her desk, sat down, and began to work on the Ryu spreadsheet.

 

* * *

 

Mondays were always busy at the firm, and Rey found herself having to get up and run from Ben's office to her desk to Legal to every other department in the office, all morning long and into the afternoon. She didn't even pause to eat lunch, because they needed the paperwork for the Black Saber, LLC deal done and out the door and emailed away by two and there was no way she was going to let a single thing slip past her.

Ben was becoming agitated as the day drew on. Every time she came into his office to drop off a report he looked more and more tense, his shoulders hunched over his desk from behind a mountain of files and paperwork. She didn't bother to ask what was bothering him—with eight different things on their plates, it was clear enough.

At one-thirty in the afternoon, she was bending over her printer, desperately trying to get the cables reconnected and the whole thing rebooted because for whatever reason the fucking thing was frozen and not responding to her computer whatsoever, and of course none of the tech guys could make it out until past two and they had a _deadline_ for Christ's sake, when Ben walked out of his office.

She heard him pause, one foot scraping slightly on the carpet as he caught himself. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing the printer. Or, at least, trying to. It locked up and I can't get the thing to respond." Rey knelt and tried to peer behind the plastic and metal monstrosity.

"Call the techs."

"I did. They can't make it in till two-thirty and our deadline for the Black Saber deal is at two. I need the four spreadsheets I made printed off by then and in the mailbox for Legal." Rey rolled up her white sleeve and shoved her arm behind the dusty printer, grimacing. "I think a cable got knocked loose."

"Is that red blinking light a call waiting on the line?" His voice was stern, almost dangerously dark and firm.

She closed her eyes. Shit. "Yes. Sorry. That's—" She racked her brains. "Armitage Hux from Order First, the research delivery service for th—"

"And how long did you keep him waiting without informing me?"

Rey did not need this right now. "Five minutes." Her fingers grasped the cable and she jammed it into the right slot, then disentangled herself from the back of the printer and stood up, brushing dust from her arm. "He's on line two. Sir."

He gave her a long, slow look. "Get everything for Black Saber taken care of, then come to my office. And shut the door when you enter."

Rey's mouth went dry. She didn't glorify that with a _yes, sir_ ; just sat down at her desk again and started the reboot process as Ben went back into his office and left the door an inch ajar.

 

* * *

 

After finally getting the printer to work, packing up the four copies of reports, double-checking everything, jamming her flats back on to race down to the post box, and taking the elevator back up to the office, Rey felt like her adrenaline was about to kill her.

Ben's door was still open, and he was still on the phone with Armitage Hux, his voice carrying through the crack in the door. "Yes, absolutely. You haven't heard anything on that front, have you?"

Rey shoved her heels back on and checked herself in the mirror by the door to make sure she looked presentable, then edged in, silently shutting the door behind her. Ben glanced up, the phone tucked under his chin, and crooked his finger in a _come here_ gesture, pointing to the carpet directly beside his desk and next to him.

Huh. Okay. Rey legged it over in her heels, and stood a foot away from him, leaning slightly on the edge of his desk.

"No, I haven't heard a thing from Phasma. Thought she was going to go backpacking through the Himalayas or join a fight club." He laughed into the receiver, and listened to whatever Hux was saying as he leaned forward and wrote something on a Post-it, and shoved it at Rey.

She looked down at it. _I hope you know how fucking distracting that skirt is._

Oh, so it was like _that._ Rey glanced up, but he wasn't looking at her. So she turned around, slowly and deliberately, bending slightly and reaching for a pen all the way across his desk.

Ben choked halfway through his sentence and coughed. "Sorry. Water went down the wrong pipe. You were saying?"

Rey leaned on her elbows and wrote out _Glad to be of assistance_ on another post-it, and handed it to Ben with a flourish. He took it and read it and his dark eyes flashed back up to her.

 _Bad girl_ , he mouthed, and that _really_ should not have made her want to melt on the spot, right into the carpet, but it did. "Yeah? I didn't think they had that kind of background. Huh." He snatched another post-it and scribbled on it, then gave it to her. _If I touch you, you stay quiet. Understand?_

Rey wrote on the same note, _I'll do my best. No promises._

"Oh, definitely. Hey, what's the status of our order from the 4th? I think we needed names from—yeah." Ben spread his left hand out and seized her left ass cheek, hard. Rey squeaked very quietly and bit on her lip as his fingers gripped her, then his other hand found the other side and squeezed. "Yes, I can hold."

Rey heard the tinny, canned music floating out of the receiver and Ben reached up and gripped her waist, pulling her down into his lap. "Five minutes," he said, his right hand creeping up her thigh and easing into the slit in her skirt. "You stay quiet."

"Oh, god," she panted. "But the Ryu deadline—"

"I said, _stay quiet._ " His fingers brushed across her inner thigh, and slightly up to center, and his body stiffened. "You're not—you don't have on—"

"I _said_ I was going to go commando Monday," she reminded him, and ground a little into his lap.

He spluttered and just then, the receiver clicked back on. "Sorry, sir, you still there?"

Ben closed his eyes as if he was praying for strength, his hands still clamped on her thighs and trembling slightly, and answered as evenly as he could. "Sure am."

Rey waited until Hux had started talking again to back up slightly and press against Ben's lap. He was already hard, and his hand gripped her thigh warningly. She quit teasing him and went still, her round ass planted firmly in his lap. "Uh, huh. Good. And what's the progress been like?"

His fingers slipped across to her clit and his thumb found her, rubbing gently. Rey let out the tiniest whimper she could manage and gripped the edge of the desk. "Right," Ben said casually. "Okay. Yeah, we’re on a deadline here, three PM. Busy day. Mondays usually are. This particular one's been a monster." A damp finger probed lower, slipping through her folds and around her opening, and she panicked, clamping her legs together to stop him. God, if he got inside her…she'd stain her skirt, someone might walk _in_ —the thought was making her even wetter, and she closed her eyes, fighting to breathe evenly.

Ben, thank God, didn't push it, just stroked her thigh with his other big hand. "Oh, completely. You have a good one. Yep. Bye." He reached over and slammed down the cradle button, letting the phone drop dangling to the floor on its cord without bothering to re-seat it, and pressed his mouth to Rey's neck. "Holy shit," he hissed through his teeth, hot on her skin. "Holy _shit_ , I've never been this fucking hard in my _life—_ "

"Bathroom," she gasped. " _Bathroom._ "

" _God_ ," he said, and then somehow they'd stood up, and Ben was carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all, her skirt hiked up around her hips and he was carrying her to the bathroom and she couldn't keep her mouth off his.

Once they'd made it in the bathroom, he kicked the door shut and locked it one-handed, then set her on the counter and frantically fumbled with his fly, standing between her legs. "Jesus," he said. "Jesus Christ, you're fucking wet." Rey shimmied off her turtleneck and he forgot about his dick for a second and buried his face in her chest, tongue flicking across her nude bra and fingers fumbling with the hook behind her back. "I couldn't stop thinking about you," he said hoarsely, half-into her hair. "All weekend. I went to the gym three times and just punched every bag in sight for hours. I couldn't—"

"That makes two of us," she said, and yanked her bra off, flinging it behind him. "God, I thought—I thought you were going to fire me when you wanted me in the office—"

He chuckled, forehead pressed to hers as he ran his hands down her chest. "God, no. No, no. Never."

"Good," she said, unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants down. "Nobody else is going to bring you an evening beagle."

Ben really did laugh at that, and it transformed his whole face into an endearing, boyish expression. She had to grin back, even as she was reaching into the front flap of his boxer-briefs and pulling out his dick. Her lipstick was smeared on his face, and he didn't seem to care. "You hold on and don't let go," he said, and Rey wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed her face into his collar, fighting a noise as he slid into her, slick and hot and huge.

" _Fuuuuck_ ," she panted, and gripped his tie.

He let out a very un-masculine noise and slammed his hand against the mirror, the other one pressed to her hip to keep her steady, and he started moving. Rey wrapped her legs around his waist and let out a terrible groan, not caring if she got lipstick on his shirt, not caring if she came all over the floor of the fucking bathroom.

Ben's hand left the mirror and clapped over her mouth. "Shh," he panted. "Shh." Rey slipped her tongue from between her lips and flicked across his fingers, and his lips dropped open as he shoved the index and middle into her mouth. His eyes fixed on her lips as she sucked on them, moaning; her cheeks hollowed obscenely around his thick fingers, her lips leaving berry-red stains on his knuckles. "God _damn._ "

Rey slipped her hands down under his arms and clutched at his waist. "Mmmph," she said around his fingers, and he held her tight on the counter, hips working like a piston, in and out.

It was over fairly quickly. Ben snatched a paper towel at the last minute and jerked out of her, grunting as he bent over and finished into the towel, shaking a little. "Shit, _shit,_ " he said tightly.

Rey leaned back against the mirror and finished herself off. It didn't take long at all until she was cresting her peak, body flushed and hot, legs loose and limp. She let out a little breath and sat up, blinking, to find Ben watching her hungrily. "We're going to miss that deadline," she said sleepily.

"Right. Deadline." Ben wadded up the stained paper towel and tossed it in the garbage, then leaned on the counter. "Let me figure out this whole walking thing again first."

She smirked and slid off the counter, her bare skin cold and her skirt rucked up around her waist. "You do that. I'm going to find my bra."

"I think you threw it by the toilet." He tucked himself back into his boxers and pulled his pants back up, buckling his belt as she found her bra and got it back on. Ben leaned over and finger-combed his hair, then licked his fingers and scrubbed at the stain on his cheek and lips where her lipstick had departed her mouth and made a new home.

"Sorry about that," she said, grinning as she tugged her turtleneck back on. By some miracle, it had escaped unscathed. Her stomach growled, and she waved Ben off as he turned around and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I skipped lunch to work on the Black Saber deadline. I'll get a snack."

"You do that," he said, wetting a paper towel to scrub at his cheek. "I think there's leftover deli sandwiches from this morning in the breakroom fridge. Go grab one and take a ten. We still have plenty of time." He checked his watch.

"Will do." She hesitated, then leaned across the space between them to plant a kiss on his lips, soft and gentle. Ben let her and looked a little flustered when she stepped back.

"And I want to take you to dinner tonight."

Rey's stomach growled again. "Okay," she said, smiling.

"And then I want to take you to my place. If that's all right."

Rey slipped her heels back on. "That," she said primly, "will be more than all right, Mr. Solo." She didn't miss the smile on his face as she checked herself in the mirror and straightened out her hair until she looked presentable. "Will that be all, sir?"

"That will be all, Miss Rey," he said, and she left the bathroom and headed back out into the empty office.

 

* * *

 

"We have to talk," said Rose.

Rey jumped, nearly hitting her head on the fridge, and stood up, letting the door shut and holding her sandwich. "Okay. About what?"

"Are you okay?" Rose had a weird expression on her face, something between overly excited and very concerned. "You've just…I don't know, ever since you got the new job you've changed your style, and you're holding the record right now for length of time someone puts up with Mr. Solo, and he's not yelling at anyone anymore. Like, are you doing something?"

Rey flushed down to her turtleneck. "Doing something?" she echoed. "Like what?"

"I don't know! I'm asking you!" Rose waved her hands around. "Did you cast a spell on him or something? Did Leia force him to be nice to you?"

Rey really did laugh at that. "No. And no."

"Were you—" Rose leaned in to whisper. "Were you wearing his clothes on Friday?"

"Oh, god," said Rey. "Yeah. He was…under the weather, and he barfed on me. And then I barfed in his sink. So I borrowed his clothes."

The other woman looked strangely surprised, as if that wasn't the answer she'd been expecting. "And when you shut him up the day the Darklighter guys came?"

"Oh, that." Rey chewed on her sandwich. "No, that was just me not putting up with him. Apparently nobody he hired before has a backbone. He was shocked into being polite."

Rose looked almost crestfallen. "Oh."

"I mean, he _did_ drive me home and…stayed a while Friday, but—"

Rose's eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped into a little O. "He did _what_?"

"Keep your voice down! Jesus! Yes, he drove me home and we hung out at my apartment." Rey was furiously blushing, but also not above a little teasing. "I mean. You could _call_ it hanging out."

"Rey, oh my god. Oh my _god_. You did not." Rose pressed her hands to her face. "He's not, like, making you do this, though, right?"

"God, no," said Rey. "If I have an issue I'll go to HR. He's taking me to dinner tonight. Are you _texting_ someone?"

"Um, noooo," said Rose, thumbs tapping wildly. "Just…updating Paige."

"Rose," said Rey. "Besides Paige, who knows about this?"

Rose opened her mouth and closed it like a caught fish. "Everyone knows," she whispered. "Literally everyone." Rey dropped into a plastic chair. "I mean, we didn't know for _sure_ , it was all speculation and then Ms. Holdo said that it would be a good idea if I asked you if everything was okay and—"

"Rose." Rey looked up at her, still clutching her sandwich. "I _literally_ just got done banging the man in his office. Can we _not_ bring Ms. Holdo into this?"

Rose shrieked behind her hands and collapsed into the other chair, her legs kicking in excitement. "Is that why—Oh, my _god,_ Kay _said_ he had lipstick on his collar when she went in to drop off the legal research  _and_ he was _smiling_ but I didn't _believe_ her and—"

"You're all ridiculous," Rey said helplessly, starting to laugh. "Just for revenge I'm making up a bunch of bullshit about the date tonight and telling you all a different thing and seeing how you try to work it out."

"I _swear_ we won't tell Leia. Unless Ms. Holdo already brought it up." Rose was practically vibrating with excitement. "Are you like, officially dating, or—"

"I'm officially going back to _work_!" Rey said, shoving the rest of the sandwich in her mouth so she didn't have to talk and rushing back to her desk.

There was a note waiting for her when she got back. Neat, precise handwriting with thin down-strokes. _I took care of the Ryu paperwork. You feel free to take as long of a break as you need. See you tonight._  There was no signature, but there didn't need to be.

Rey tucked the note in her purse and smiled, then headed for the door. She really, _really_ needed a latte.

After all, they had deadlines to meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we are DONE!!! I'd like to thank D for the lovely prompt that completely stole my heart from day one of writing it and I have so many useless backstories and headcanons about this AU feel free to ask me because there's nothing I love more than hollering about my head universes!!! I really don't often write AU fic because I feel like it comes off as corny when I try BUT the feedback from y'all has been phenomenal and as always my prompts are still open at urulokid.tumblr.com/ask


	4. ACT FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it's been forever, and I KNOW I thought I was done with this, but it wouldn't leave me alone, and...just. Here. 
> 
> What is WRONG with me, I just finished a 90k word Titanic AU and here I am back on my modern office smut BULLSHIT. Anyhoo. Enjoy.

The lights in the office dimmed on their automatic timer, and Rey looked up from her work, pencil dangling absently between her lips. It was six o'clock, and Ben—Mr. Solo—had still not emerged from his office.

She'd been fielding whispered _have fun at dinner_ comments all afternoon (thanks to Rose, of course: now the whole fucking _office_ knew) and yet here she sat, stomach growling, at six PM. The place was almost empty by now. There'd been several hurried deliveries and appointments and paperwork to sign for all day, and sure, it had been a long day, but—he wouldn't have _forgotten._ Her thighs still ached, for God's sake.

Rey gave up waiting and tiptoed around the desk, knocking on the door. _I'll just ask if he needs anything_ , she told herself, willing herself to _not_ come off as needy or clingy. The door was ajar, and she rapped on it smartly. "Mr. Solo?" she called.

"Miss Rey?" came the reply, somewhere in the bowels of the room.

"Do you, uh, need anything?" There was no immediate answer, and she improvised. "Because, uh, I have to go use the bathroom really quick. Just, just, uh, wondering." Her heart was pounding horribly. God, she was so _awkward_ , why was this man even _into_ her?

"Actually, I do need help with something, if you'd step in for a moment," he said, sounding very aloof.

Oh. Okay. She wondered if he wanted to bend her over the desk or something. Not that she'd be opposed at all, but her delicate bits were still just a little bit tender. "Sure," she said, and opened the door, stepping inside and shutting it behind her.

The lights were on; a warm, golden glow suffused the office and made the wall-to-ceiling windows appear black and smooth and opaque. Ben was sitting behind his desk, his tie loose and his collar open. He looked as if he'd been extremely focused on something, but he sat back and his eyes fixed on her the second she shut the door. "Miss Rey," he said, the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth his only expression.  "Good."

"How can I help you, Mr. Solo?" she asked politely.

"Well, you see," he said, attention turning back to whatever he was working on, "I'm taking a young lady out to dinner tonight. It's a very nice establishment, and she can't go in business attire, so I had something delivered. It's in a garment bag in my restroom. Would you try it on? I just want to make sure it fits."

Rey blinked. What. _What._ He'd bought her a fucking _outfit_. For dinner. An outfit for _dinner._ She became aware she was gaping, and she shut her mouth with a snap. "Of course," she said, her belly in knots.

"Thank you. That will be all." Ben didn't even look up. She hurried to the bathroom and shut the door behind her, both hands pressed to the counter.

"You are in over your goddamn head," she said to her reflection through her teeth. Behind her, in the mirror, was a black garment bag hanging from the towel bar. She looked at it, and looked back at herself, and looked at it again. Curiosity won out, and Rey turned around and unzipped the thing, revealing—

_Oh, my god._

Her first impression was _red_ , and the second _expensive._ She blinked again and took in the details. The gown was a dark, rich shade, strapless, with a structured, sharp bodice that seamlessly flowed into a skirt with a left thigh slit that went… _very_ high. Rey reached out and touched it. It had to be some kind of silk, or something—she didn't know a whole lot about couture fabrics, but this was. This. Was. Too much.

 _Where the hell is he taking me_? Rey reached for the hanger, and caught sight of the box under the garment bag with _Christian Louboutin_ across the lid. "You better not have got me heels," she said through her teeth, and squatted to open it.

Thank God. Flats: nude and with a delicately pointed toe; red soles, but _flats._ Rey grinned. "All right, fine," she said, and began to strip.

* * *

Ben Solo sat in his dim office. He was alone and the door to his bathroom was shut. There was absolutely no pretense at aloofness now—he sat with his elbows on his knees, hunched forward, focused on the light streaming from under the door with laser-like intensity. Every so often she moved, and the shadow under the door shifted, and his mind leaped directly to the mental image of her, in nothing but her underwear, the dress he'd picked out clinging to her body, and _then_ he'd fight to suppress the urge stirring somewhere below his belt at the idea of peeling her out of it and taking her right on the floor. Or the counter again. Anywhere. It didn't matter.

_Shit._

_Shit, I am so fucked._

Ben could barely remember the names of his other short-lived assistants. They came, they cracked under pressure, they went away, and they were replaced. He hadn't cared in the slightest about a single one of them. Then this shabby, stubborn little college grad with a billion-watt smile and bright hazel eyes had—

Look, he hadn't even wanted to hire another assistant. Really. He _hadn't_. And he hadn't specifically chosen her, either: his mother had suggested a name and he had said _whatever, sure_ , and come to the desk and she had been mocking him behind his back, and he'd taken a perverse pleasure in making her squirm, convinced she was about to be fired. _That’s what you get_ , he'd thought to himself vindictively.

That had been about when his dick had started taking an interest in the conversation. He thought he'd done a good job of hiding his absolute confusion at his own arousal by writing her the advance check and sending her off as fast as he could, but she'd showed up the next day in that snug little dress and she'd had an _ass_ she'd been hiding under those sweaters and he'd tried his hardest to _not_ look, but when she'd made clear in the next week that she was not going to be talked down to or ordered around—it was almost like a challenge. Which was ridiculous, obviously, because he was the goddamn acting CEO, and she was his PA, and nothing about this was appropriate in the least, but God, _God_ if she wasn't just—

The door opened. His thoughts blew away like morning fog. Rey was standing there in the bathroom door, dress on, silhouetted by light, and—

"Come out here," said Ben. "Please," he added as an afterthought.

She took a few steps forward. Lithe little body, poured into oxblood silk, suntanned arms and shoulders bare: her tousled hair down and just brushing her shoulders. "I—I need help zipping it," she said quickly, and turned around, showing him the four-inch section of zipper she hadn't been able to reach, just between her shoulder-blades.

"Ah," he said, mouth dry, and stood. He didn't remember crossing the five-foot distance. The next thing he knew, his hands were on her skin, and he found the zipper. One smooth movement, and his knuckles were stroking her spine. She stiffened a little, and he took his hand away. "There," he said, hoping he didn't sound as ragged as he felt. "Comfortable?"

"Yes," she said, turning to face him. "So, uh, where are we having dinner? I hope it's not with the Queen. I'm rusty on my etiquette."

Ben chuckled. "No. Luckily for you, it's _L'arbre_."

"Wh—" Her face went pale, even in the dim golden glow from his lamps. "I—that place is—"

"I know exactly what it is," he assured her, enjoying the look of dismay on her face. "Excuse me. I'll change my shirt and we'll go." Her large, distressed eyes found his, and he impulsively tucked a stray lock of hair behind one ear. "You look lovely," he murmured softly, and quickly turned toward the restroom.

* * *

Rey sat waiting for Ben, staring at her ancient iPhone as it valiantly chugged away on Safari. _L'arbre_  was one of the most highly rated and sought-after restaurants in the city, and notoriously expensive—she was pretty sure the _prix fixe_ was something like three hundred bucks a head, but she wasn't sure, since even looking at the website made her feel like she was too poor to breathe.

Her phone gave up. She groaned as the screen went to black and displayed the white Apple logo. "Dammit," she hissed. It was her fault for letting the damn thing dip under 50% battery. She just hoped she didn't need it at dinner. _Ben would let me use his if it was an emergency_ , she thought. Besides, she was going back to his place afterward. Probably. _Hopefully_.

The bathroom door opened and there stood her boss, dressed immaculately in a gray dress shirt and black jacket with the thinnest lapels Rey had ever seen, complete with a black tie. "Ready?" he asked, adjusting his cufflinks.

"Uh. Yeah. Yes." Rey swallowed. Her mouth felt dry, and everything below her waist felt entirely the opposite. _For fuck's sake,_ she chided herself, _just go to dinner and enjoy yourself._

* * *

They pulled up to _L'arbre_ ten minutes later in Ben's Mercedes, and Rey stared out the window in shock. It was nothing too opulent on the outside, but there was already a line stretching to the sidewalk, and if the outfits she saw were anything to go by, she was absolutely not underdressed. In the slightest. "Holy shit," she said.

"Don't worry," said Ben, parking. A valet hurried over. "We have a reservation." He got out, tossed the keys to the valet, and opened the passenger side door for her.

"A—a—" Rey blinked and awkwardly let him help her out of the car. Heads were turning, attracted by both the car and its occupants, and she flushed, gripping Ben's elbow as he walked her inside and past the line. "People are staring."

"Good," he said, and there was an edge to his voice—something Rey couldn't place at all. They made it inside the doors and he nodded at the tall, thin concierge, who blinked at him over gold-rimmed glasses.

"Oh, Mr. Solo!" he said, sounding delighted. "Yes, yes, of course we have your table ready—come right this way, please, may I take your jacket?"

Rey followed him, Ben behind her, and tried very hard not to stare at the interior. Glittering crystal, chandeliers, flawless white tablecloths, silverware she suspected might be actual silver—all of it was offset by calm gray wood walls and a dark floor, art on the walls, exposed beams above. It should have been too much, but the combined effect felt…minimalistic, almost.

The concierge pulled out Rey's chair for her and she sat carefully, looking at the menu at her place with apprehension. It was plain ivory vellum that looked like a wedding invitation, the choices of food printed in silver block letters. The table was set for two, but there were, like, five goddamn forks, and two knives, and three spoons, and four wineglasses, and why were there no _plates_? The menu was just sitting where the plate should be, propped up on a napkin folded like a pyramid…

"Yes, water to start with, please," said Ben, jolting her out of her focus. The concierge nodded and almost sprinted off.

"This place is insane," said Rey, grinning in spite of herself. "They have—" her eye landed on the other menus—"they have a separate _wine_ menu?"

"What's the nicest place you've ever eaten?" he asked, picking up his napkin and putting it on his lap. "No judgment, by the way. Just wondering."

"Oh, no," said Rey, shaking her head as she did the same with hers. "No, you'll laugh at me."

The waiter, a man as short and round as the concierge had been thin and tall, came with the water and introduced himself as Artie, and told them to please take their time with the menu and to ask if they had any questions whatsoever, and disappeared again. Rey's head was spinning. She gulped down some water and carefully set the glass down, then picked up the menu again.

"Come on," said Ben, picking up his glass and giving her an inscrutable look over the rim. "You can tell me. I won't laugh."

She only raised an eyebrow, and waited until he'd taken a gulp of water before saying, "Olive Garden."

Ben Solo choked, coughed, and hacked into his napkin while Rey hid a grin behind the menu. "You're not serious," he croaked, once he'd gotten air back into his lungs.

"Dead serious," she said. "Graduation day, college, we all went out to Olive Garden for lunch."

"Jesus Christ," said Ben. "I want you to get out your phone and Google Maps the hell out of downtown, right now, and pick some restaurants you think you'll like, and we'll go to them whenever you want."

"Phone's still restarting," said Rey apologetically after a peek into her purse. "But I will later."

"Restarting?" His brow wrinkled.

"Yeah, you know. It's an old phone and I think the battery's on its last legs." Rey shrugged. "I've had it replaced but that was…uh, about two years ago."

"I heard the 8's were pretty iffy with battery issues," he said, nodding.

"Oh, I wish I had an 8. Ha. No, I have a 4s. It's been fairly reliable for the past five years, but—"

"You have a _what_ ," he said flatly.

"A 4s. Four. Ess." Rey pulled her phone out and showed it to him, back and front, complete with the grimy corgi and penguin stickers she'd thought were cute in high school. "This one."

He blinked. The muscle under his eye twitched. "I see," he said. "Well, Miss Rey, we'll need to make sure you get a more reliable form of communication, won't we?"

"Reliable?" asked Rey.

"Yes. You're a PA and you need a phone." He sipped his water again and gave her a look.

"I have a phone," she protested.

"You have a brick," he said patiently, and she wrinkled her nose at him. "Now give the menu a look before the waiter comes back."

Rey picked it up and pretended to raise her eyebrows, looking at it critically. Ben smiled, and her affected mood changed pretty quickly as she began to actually read the menu. What the hell was "mousseline" or a "citrus-miso emulsion"? "Okay, you'll need to translate," she said, raising her eyes at Ben over the top of the menu. "I have no idea what half this stuff is."

"Want me to order for you?" he asked, glancing at his. "You like savory food, right? Seafood? No allergies, right?"

"Yes, sure, and no," said Rey, and sat back, slightly interested, but also very hungry. "All right, I guess. My fate is in your hands. If I hate it, though, you have to take me to McDonalds. You _do_ know what that is, right?"

He fixed her with a dark stare, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the waiter, trotting back politely. "Hello again, Artie," he said. "We'll both have the chef's tasting. With the wine pairing, please."

"Excellent choice, sir," said Artie, and retreated without writing a single thing down.

Rey glanced back down at her menu and did a double-take. "That's _four hundred dollars_ per _person_ —"

"Sure is." Ben's mouth twitched a little. "You'll like it. I promise. Besides, it's my treat."

"That’s not the _point_." Scandalized, she set the menu down and gave him a look. "You can't—I can't—you can't spend this on me—"

"Of course I can," he said. "You're my guest."

Rey pursed her lips and sat back, tapping the tablecloth with her fingertips. "I'm not stupid," she said finally. "Nothing is _free_."

"Ah," said Ben softly, and set his glass aside. "I see. You're assuming I'm paying for your dinner with the expectation that you'll come back to my place and make yourself available as some kind of exchange, is that right?"

Heat flushed Rey's face. "I—well—when you put it like _that_ —"

"Miss Rey," he said, his eyes flickering across her, "the only expectations I have for this evening are that you do whatever you like, on your own terms, regardless of a single thing I do. Understood?"

She gulped down a retort at the expression on his face. "Yes, Mr. Solo."

"Good," he said pleasantly, and Artie appeared with their first course: caviar and sake. Rey tried it and made a face—it was like a zillion salty bubbles exploding in her mouth, but the sake was pretty good. They were done in minutes, and Artie appeared again to whisk away the dishes.

"So," said Rey, trying to think of anything to say, "how's your mom? She didn't come in Friday."

"No, she was at our lake house," said Ben, looking as if he'd rather talk about anything else. "Working on some family things. She'll be in this weekend."

"Oh." Rey looked up, grateful for the distraction as Artie brought two plates of something meat-ish she couldn't identify that looked extremely Instagrammable and poured them two glasses of white wine. "What's this?" she asked.

"Seared langoustine; foie gras crouton, drizzled with a balsamic-truffle vinaigrette, miss," he said eagerly. "And Riesling to go with it."

"Oh, thank you," said Rey, feeling even more confused. Artie disappeared, and Ben gave her a smile.

"It's lobster, duck liver, and sauce," he said.

"I know what foie gras is, thank you," she told him aloofly, and dug in. It was _good_. Really good—she hadn't ever thought of liver as a tempting food at all, but this was buttery and smooth and gone in two bites. The lobster was even better, and the sauce was savory and delicious. She was almost mad that there wasn't more. "These portions are too small," she said, dabbing her mouth with her napkin.

"You're supposed to focus on the taste and take your time," he told her, smiling. "It's not Golden Corral."

She wrinkled her nose at him. Artie brought the third course, which was some kind of fish, and she gave up on trying to make conversation while she chewed slowly and really paid attention to the food. She'd never thought of eating as an _experience_ —her whole thing was usually to grab whatever was on sale at Costco and get creative with it. Food was fuel, and she had never cared too much about the taste of whatever she was eating. She had to admit, though, that Ben had a point.

By the last course, a cheeseboard complemented with a pair of citrus-chocolate mousses and coffee, she was enjoying herself, and Ben looked like he was thrilled at her delight in trying new things. "This coffee is _amazing_ ," she gushed, sipping at the little cup.

"It's Jamaican," he informed her. "Try it with the mousse."

She did, and the flavor combination was unbelievable. "Holy _shit_ ," she said, her mouth full.

Ben grinned and waved down Artie, who came like he'd been stalking them in the wings. The card hand-over was so subtle that it looked like a sleight-of-hand trick, and Artie was gone again. "You still want to go to McDonalds?" he asked.

"No way," she said, setting her empty coffee down. "That was _incredible_. You know you've totally ruined me for all food now, right?"

"Mmm," he said, leaning forward. "Well, the last thing I want to do is _spoil_ you, Miss Rey." The tone of his voice suggested that he very much meant the opposite, and a shiver ran up Rey's neck. "That would be entirely unprofessional."

"Right," said Rey, sipping at her water. "Because driving your assistant home and taking her to bed is the peak of professionalism. Wouldn't want to be _unprofessional._ " She licked a spot of caramel emulsion off her thumb, and hollowed her cheeks slightly, waiting for his reaction—sure, she knew she was being provocative, but she liked his reactions.

Ben's face didn't change, but one fist clenched on the table suddenly, the knuckles gone white. "Hm," he managed, and Artie came back with his card, and before Rey knew what was happening she was up and walking out, Ben's hand pressed to the small of her back and his mouth close to her ear. "Playing with fire," he whispered roughly, and she hid a smile as they got outside.

The valet handed Ben the keys to the Mercedes and he opened the door for her. She slid in, trying to quiet her twisted up stomach, before Ben slid into the other side behind the wheel. The door shut with a soft bang. "Fucking hell," he said, gripping the wheel.

"I—" Rey felt lost. He sounded almost upset. "Should I not have said—"

"No," he said, and dragged a hand down his face before starting the car. "You're fine. You're perfect. I'm the one I'm pissed at."

"Why?"

"Because—" Ben exhaled through his nose. "Because I'm absolutely fucking _fucked_." They pulled out into the street. "You—everything about you is so—I don't know. I don't know how to say it. You're like—like this—enormous, stubborn, gorgeous, capable pain in my _ass_ and you completely blew me out of the water on day one."

"Oh," said Rey. "Well, is that—is that a good thing?"

"I don't know," he said. "God, and then you went and did that in the goddamn _restaurant._ I don't know if I want to kiss you or bash my head into a wall or bend you over and fuck you until you beg me to let you come. Jesus Christ."

 _Oh, my God._ Sudden heat pooled between Rey's thighs, horribly insistent and aching and wet and open, and all she wanted was— "Pull over," she demanded. What was _wrong_ with her?

"What?" He glanced at her, sounding half-afraid. "Is everyth—"

"Pull. Over. Somewhere dark. Now." Her heart was pounding and she could barely focus. Beg him to let her come. Yes. Yes, she wanted _that_ , very specifically that, _shit_. _Hell of a time to discover this one, thanks, body!_

Ben obeyed, pulling off into a park and into a lot beneath a low-hanging oak. He put it in park. "Rey, what—"

She crawled across the center console and kissed him on the mouth. Hard. He groaned into her, and his hands found her waist, tightening as she slid into his lap. Ben was already hard, poking against her hip. "Please," she gasped, " _please_ —"

"Rey," he said, catching her wrists and holding her at bay. "Tell me. Tell me what you want."

"I want—" She tried to breathe. "I want you to do that. To. Fuck. _Ben_." Her eyes squeezed shut. This was so fucking _embarrassing_. She was about to beg her boss, her _boss_ , to—

"Say it," murmured Ben, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Go on. Say it. Whatever it is, I'll do it, but you have to tell me."

"Okay," she said, face burning. "I want you to do that thing you said, the last bit."

"You want me to…bend you over and fuck you until you beg me to let you come?" he said softly, pulling back.

Rey fought a whimper. "Yes. _Please_. I'm so sorry—I've never—this has never—"

"Say it to me," he ordered. "In your words. I want you to say it."

"I—" Rey caught her breath. "I want you to bend me over and fuck me until I—I beg you to let me come."

"Mr. Solo," prompted Ben.

She shut her eyes. "Mr. Solo," she echoed, wondering if it was possible to die of being too fucking turned on.

"Well, I assume you don’t want to do this in my car," he said.

"I—" She pressed a hand to her head. "God. No. I'm so sorry—"

"Shh. Stop that." He shook his head. "No apologizing. We're five minutes from my place. You get back into your seat and buckle up. I'll take care of you."

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him, and fling herself out of the car, and get his pants off him and sit on his cock. Instead she got back into the passenger seat and pressed her thighs together, counting the seconds until they got to Ben's place and desperately hoping she was making the right choice.


	5. ACT FIVE

Ben Solo's apartment building was a sleekly modern, glass and steel monster that rose twenty stories above the sidewalk. They parked in a private garage that looked like it might be armored, and Ben's hand rested on Rey's lower back as he guided her into the building and to the elevators.

"This one," he said simply, and she faced away from the larger ones to a sleek black elevator door, slightly smaller. He tapped his finger onto a black screen, and it flashed green, the door sliding open silently.

"Of course you have a private elevator," said Rey, stepping in. She had done her best to regain some sort of control over her body, and now just stood awkwardly next to Ben, trying not to think about eighty different things she wanted him to do. "With a fingerprint reader. Of course."

"The lengths that I go to, avoiding solicitors," he said, smiling slightly, and she peered up at him.

"Was that a _joke_?" she asked, pretending to be shocked. "Holy shit. Mr. Ben Solo just made a joke. Call the newspapers, stop the presses, put it on Twitter—"

He wrinkled his nose at her and the elevator dinged lightly, the door sliding open and revealing a nondescript little hallway with dark wood flooring, a shut door to the right and an open hall to the left. "After you, Miss Rey," he said, and she stepped out into the middle of the hall, curiosity overtaking her. What kind of place did he live in?

An expensive one. That was the answer. She rounded the open hall on the left and came face-to-face with a wet bar set into the wall, a massive staircase leading up in a foyer, and past that, three more shut doors. Everything was gleaming dark wood and metal with white accents. "This is… really big," she said.

"This is the first floor," said Ben, a smile in his voice. "Just my room and two of the spare bedrooms. Up the stairs with you, come on."

"What—three _of_ the bedrooms? How many bedrooms does—" Rey turned, bewildered, and he grinned.

"Uh, seven, I think. And eight bathrooms."

She gaped at him.

"Two kitchens, library, media room, great room, family room, balcony—"

"Why do you need _two kitchens_?"

"Technically one of the bedrooms on the lower level is my home office, but—"

Rey reached out for the bannister. "I'm _so_ exploring. Can I explore?" She turned back and looked at him.

"Of course. Don't break anything. If you do, it's not a huge deal." Ben waved her off.

Rey turned around and took the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping on her dress. This place was enormous, and she wanted to make sure she knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, it was almost nine, and Rey had disappeared into the penthouse, up stairs and down stairs, while Ben rolled his sleeves up and made himself a smoothie in the biggest kitchen, the one that connected to the great room which overlooked the east side of the city with floor to ceiling windows.

She appeared again, dress rumpled, head poking around the corner from the great room. "You have _two bathrooms_ in your bedroom," she informed him, as if he didn't know. " _Two_."

"Sure do," he said, sipping his kale-blueberry smoothie.

"And a _sitting room_. And three closets." She crossed her arms. " _Three closets_."

"I have a lot of suits," he said. "Anything else you've discovered about my home you'd like to tell me?"

"Yes. You have a movie theater, and your Blu-ray collection is severely lacking. Who has only the _first_ Pirates of the Caribbean movie?"

"It's the only good one," he told her.

"You clearly hate fun. At least you have all the Lord of the Rings extended editions. You get points for that." Rey grinned.

"Really," he said, setting his empty glass in the sink and giving her a look. "What do my points go toward?"

"Oh, uh," she said, blushing. "Well. Um. I'll have to get back to you on that one."

Ben crossed the room and stood very close, bending his head down just enough to come close enough to kiss her. Rey froze, face upturned, and parted her lips, waiting. "We need to have a chat," he said softly, and walked past her to the long, low black sofa that looked like an art piece instead of furniture.

Rey blinked and followed him, feeling as if she was about to be reprimanded. "About what?" she asked, sitting on the couch next to him. It was surprisingly comfortable, and she toed out of her flats and tucked her feet underneath her.

Ben sat forward, his elbows on his knees. "Boundaries. We're—this is not—I'm your boss," he finished abruptly, twin spots of color high on his cheeks. "I don't want to—I don't want you to feel like you _have_ to come over, or let me do things for you, or any of that."

"Right," said Rey, feeling dizzy. "Well, I'm not—I'm not—you know, I'm not in this for your _money_ , and I don't want you to feel like you have to buy me stuff to keep me around."

Ben tilted his head at her. "Yes. You made that clear at dinner."

"I knew you—I mean, I knew you had more money than me but I didn't know you had—like, giant penthouse, private entrance, eight billion square feet, money." Rey was pink in the face by this point: talking about money was rude and weird and _why_ was he looking at her like that? "I'm sorry. I won't talk about it. The money, I mean. Your money. Argh." She put her head in her hands.

"Rey," he said, and she looked up. "If I wanted to buy affection, don't you think I could?"

She opened her mouth and shut it. "Probably," she said.

"I've never had a—a partner," he said awkwardly, and ran his hand through his hair.

"A girlfriend," she supplied helpfully. "You mentioned that."

Ben blinked. "A—well. Yeah. A girlfriend. I don't—you were the exception to the rule. You butted heads with me all the damn time, you refused to give me special treatment, you—it kind of pissed me off, if I'm being honest, but I liked it at the same time. And—you _slapped_ me." He went crimson, as if remembering.

"Yeah," Rey deadpanned, "and you didn't even have to ask nicely."

He snorted. "So. If we're going to do this. We need boundaries." He held up his hand, thumb pointing up. "One. We don't bring work into bed, and we don’t bring bed into work. I don't act like you're here to do whatever I want, and you don't have to call me Mr. Solo when we're here or at your place or whatever. And at work, we probably shouldn't hook up in the bathroom anymore."

"Objection," said Rey, raising an eyebrow. "What if we're… into that? I mean, the Miss and Mister and Sir kind of stuff. "

Ben considered. "All right. Amendment 1: it has to be consensual on both sides. I'm sure you don't want to come home after a shitty day and have me demanding you call me _sir_. Good?"

"Good," said Rey. "All right. What's rule two?"

He extended his pointer finger. "Two. You don't have to let me spoil you, but you do have to let me make your life a little easier. I'm not allowing your landlord to evict you over an unpaid bill. Conversely, you can ask me whatever you want about my finances and I'll be honest with you."

"I—I can't ask for your money," Rey said, indignant. "You already pay me a salary—"

"The salary you're paid comes out of company assets, not my personal accounts. Besides, I'm not asking you to ask me for money," said Ben. "I'm telling you that if your paycheck doesn't cover something important, you come and let me know and I'll fix it. I want to fix it. Like that water damage on your ceiling. I'll pay to have it fixed."

 _I want to fix it._ His eyes were dark and earnest, strangely gentle above his severe nose, and she nodded. "Okay. What's rule three?"

"I don't know," he confessed, looking slightly bashful as he lowered his hand. "Uh, I never thought I'd get this far."

Rey laughed. "Right. Okay. I'll make a rule three. I get to choose a date night wherever I want and take you there at least once a month, and I want to pay for it." Ben looked taken aback. "I already agreed to you fixing my financial problems, so don't worry about the costs eating a hole in my bank account. You _have_ to agree."

"Fine," said Ben. "But if it's ever Olive Garden, I'm rioting."

A peal of laughter burst out of Rey's throat. "Oh, my God, you're _never_ going to let that one go."

"Any other things we can think of?" he asked, grinning. "Oh! Birth control. Are you—I'm asking as your partner and not your boss, obviously—"

"Yes," said Rey, flushed. "Yeah, I'm on the pill, it's all good."

"Should have asked that on day one. Stupid," said Ben, almost to himself.

She inched closer. "Can you help me out of this dress now?"

Ben blinked. "Ah. Yes." He reached around behind her back and unzipped the thing, suddenly very aware that he hadn't seen her tits in at _least_ twelve hours and that was a fucking tragedy. The dress slipped off her chest, and his mouth went dry. God, her breasts were perfect. Small and pert and firm and dusted with little freckles and he wanted his mouth on them _right now_ —

"Ben," said Rey, and he tore his gaze up to her face. She was pink-cheeked and looked very much like she had in the car, some kind of awful hunger written across her eyes. "Bedroom."

"Bedroom," he said hoarsely, and scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her delighted shriek as he carried her off to the stairs.

* * *

Ben Solo's master suite was as austere and dark as the rest of the house, with the only signs that anyone lived there limited to the silk and linen throws on the sofa and the books on the end tables in the sitting room. The low-slung bed faced the floor to ceiling windows, and past it was one of the bathrooms and the closets, but Rey didn't want to think about the closets.

Ben put her on the bed, and she groaned as she stretched out on the mattress. "Oh, this is _so_ comfy," she whispered.

"Don't fall asleep," he said, an edge to his voice as he worked at his belt buckle. "Or else we'll have to do this on the floor."

That got her attention. She sat up and made to shimmy out of the dress, which was hanging around her waist half-zipped, but he stopped her with a look as he got his belt undone and set to work on his tie. She ran a hand along the exposed, crisply folded top sheet by his pillows, and her eyes widened. "You have, like, million thread count sheets."

"Very observant," he said, and came forward, kneeling on either side of her thighs but not touching her, and wielding his tie like a weapon. "Wrists, please."

All Rey could think of, to her own discomfiture, was that godawful bondage porn novel Rose had loaned to her a month ago. "You'll let me out if I need to?" she asked.

"Of course I will." Well, that was comforting. Rey presented her wrists, and Ben expertly bound them together, not so tight that she was losing circulation, but firmly enough that she couldn't get free. Her hands were bound, her dress was half-off, and Ben Solo was looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive. "Now. What was it again? You wanted me to make you beg to come, correct?" His voice had dropped a whole register, and seemed to vibrate.

Heat rushed her whole lower body. She was afraid to move her thighs for fear there'd be a mess smeared everywhere. "Please," she said, and bit her lip. "Oh, _god_ , don't tease me."

"Mmm," he said, and lifted the slit to her skirt, pulling it aside. The whisper of couture fabric on her too-sensitive skin was like burlap. Her thighs were pressed together tightly, the muscles standing out, and he skimmed the front of her underwear with his knuckles. She fought to not jerk her hips toward him. "I think I might have to. Just a little. You can handle some teasing, can't you, Miss Rey?"

 _Oh, god. Oh, god there goes rule one and what am I even doing??_ "Yes, Mr. Solo," she said through her teeth, and shuddered as his fingers dipped beneath the cotton fabric and swiped at her.

"My, aren't you in a state," he said in a softly toneless voice that _still_ made her tremble, even though he almost sounded bored, what the _hell_. "We'll have to take care of that, won't we?"

"Yes," she squeaked as his fingers made another pass, " _sir_ —"

"Good." He slipped off the bed and opened her thighs. "Lie down. On your back. Hands above your head."

Rey did as she was told and squirmed slightly when his finger breached her, but quickly acquiesced to the presence. She had just opened her mouth to demand another when he pulled his hand away away and pushed back in with another finger, pumping lightly and pressing kisses along her inner thigh. "You're so wet," he whispered, hot on her skin. "Wet, and slick, and all swollen for me. Is that how you get when you think about me? When you're alone? Hmm?"

"Yes," she gasped, her fingers clenched into double fists. "God _dammit_ , just—"

"Impatient," he chided, and added a third finger, pressing down lightly on her clit with his thumb. "Don't be so greedy. We have all night. Patient partners get a present." Rey jerked as his thumb came down again, just hard enough to feel good but not consistent enough to get her going. "That's a fun little phrase for you. What's the word for when, ah," his fingers crooked and she yelped at the pressure "you know, a phrase with repeated consonants—"

"Alliteration," Rey spat, desperately trying to control herself and _not_ start bouncing on his hand.

"That's the one. You're so intelligent. One of the things I like about you." Ben's fingers moved again, and she tried to clench her thighs together, but his shoulders, wedged between her knees, were as immovable as a mountain. "Intelligent, and funny, and beautiful, and a DIY genius who can fix anything, even if you don't know what foie gras is…"

"I _know_ what foie gras is!" Rey squeaked indignantly, and sucked in a breath as his mouth landed on her. His tongue flattened out against the crux of her thighs, then swiped back and forth, circled, and sucked gently. "Oh, holy shit," she panted, "please don't stop, don't stop, _please_ don't—"

He waited until she was shaking, on the verge of release, and then pulled away and off and out. Rey jerked up towards him in outrage and struggled to get herself off, but with nothing to push against found herself with nothing but a hastily receding climax. "Better?" he inquired, eyes twinkling.

"You—you—" She shut her eyes, trying to get a breath. "You _ass_ —"

"Ah-ah," he said, and rolled her over onto her stomach, yanking her skirt up and exposing her backside to the cool air of the room. Arms outstretched, Rey could only yelp as he sharply smacked her on the ass twice, one on each cheek. "Name calling won't be tolerated, Miss Rey."

A fresh wave of awful desperation surged through her. _Something is fucking crossed in my brain. Wires. I have crossed wires. Fuck, fuck, fuck_. "Yes, sir," she gasped. At least on her stomach she could subtly grind against the mattress. "I'm sorry—sir—"

Ben took her by the knees and pulled her back, bending her over the bed and taking away her contact with the bed. She spluttered, but he pulled her to his chest with one hand as he tugged her underwear off with the other. "No cheating either, Miss Rey. Understood?"

She shut her eyes, trying to cling to her last vestige of sanity. "This is revenge," she growled. "You—you're doing this on _purpose_ —you're punishing me for making fun of you the day I started—working—for—you— _Ben_ —"

His hand was creeping up and unzipping the rest of the dress, then pulling it down to pool around her knees. "As I recall, you asked for this," he told her coolly. "But, yes. I might be."

"You—" Rey bit her tongue. He didn't seem to hear. He was fiddling with his pants, and the next thing she knew her bare ass was pressed against a lot of his very hard dick. "Oh, god," she babbled, wriggling around in an attempt to get him inside her. The very tiny part of her rational brain that was still functioning knew there was no way she was getting him in at this angle without the use of her hands, but she tried anyway. "Please. _Please_. B—Mr. Solo, Ben, sir, _please_ , I want your _dick in me_ —"

"I see," he said. One of his hands crept forward and cupped a breast, squeezing lightly. "Now. While I'm aware it isn't illegal to talk about your boss behind his back, it's still _rude_ , Miss Rey. So I'd like an apology, if you don't mind."

She let out a frustrated little wail and tried to grind back against him. " _Ben_ —"

He arched his back, and she pushed back against only air and the barest whisper of fabric. "Say it."

Rey gripped the duvet in both hands. "I’m sorry," she gasped. "I'm _sorry_ , I'm sorry—" She didn't have time to think about it, either, because the next thing she knew he was slotting into her, pushing, splitting her open, spearing her to the bed— _fuck, fuck_ —

Ben was shuddering against her, bottomed out and practically crushing her against the duvet. "Good," he panted. "Good girl." Her only answer was a muffled moan. "Now you're going to stay right here, and let me work, and I'll let you come when you ask nicely."

Rey barely had the presence of mind to choke out, "yes, sir," before he was driving into her, skin slapping against skin, his breath coming hot and hard as he fucked her on his several-thousand-dollar bedspread. _I'm going to come all over it,_ she thought, half-panicked as he shifted positions and started rubbing gently at her front with one hand. _Drycleaners. I'm. It—I'm—_

She tensed up, and he cut her orgasm off by pulling his hand away and holding her still, his dick buried motionless inside her. "Deep breaths," he instructed, and she ground her teeth together. "This is an exercise in delayed gratification, Miss Rey."

"You're going," said Rey with great difficulty, "to make. Me. Come. On. The bed. Covers."

Ben chuckled. "Oh, I hope so. But not right now."

She groaned and let her head fall forward. "God, your dick feels like—it's—wedged in my fucking lungs."

"Mmm," he said, and pressed his mouth to her bare shoulder. "Chin up. We have work to do. You can't take a break yet." He punctuated that with a slow roll of his hips, and Rey moaned, arching her back against him.

 _Maybe if I talk dirty he'll give up and let me finish_ , she thought wildly, and turned her head. "You won't be able to last as long as me," she gasped out. "You can't— _beat_ me—"

"Is that a challenge?" he inquired smoothly, mouth very close to her ear. She shuddered. "I don't appreciate the back-talk, Miss Rey. Let's give your mouth something else to do, shall we?"

She opened her mouth to protest, and found two of his large, blunt fingers slipping past her lips. "Mmph," she said around his knuckles. Her tongue curled around them, and her lips closed tightly as she sucked.

"That's a good girl," he whispered roughly, and began to fuck her again, slow and steady, his free hand pressed between her legs as they bent together over the bed. "You'll find that I do actually have _some_ self-control when it comes to— _certain_ things—"

"Mmmm," said Rey desperately, pushing her hips back to get him in deeper. It felt like her thighs were on fire, and she could feel the pressure building in waves, taking over her body again with the promise of release. " _Mmmph—_ "

"None of _that_ ," he said coolly, and pushed her forward, his free hand slipping to the small of her back. "Behave."

Her orgasm flew away as quickly as it had come, and Rey felt tears prickle at the corner of her eyes and burn in her nose. _Beg him_ , said her desperate physiology. _Just do it._ But she couldn't. She couldn’t let him win. She was fighting that part of her that wanted to give in so badly that it almost hurt, and his fingers were in her mouth, and her hair was sticking to her face with sweat. What had this been, the third orgasm denied her? _Why am I so goddamn stubborn_ , she thought, tears starting to spill in spite of herself. **_Why_** _am I so goddamn—_

"Hey," said Ben softly, taking his fingers out of her mouth. "Rey. Is it too much? You want me to untie your wrists?"

"No," Rey whimpered, fighting sobs. "No, it's—it's good, it's—" She shut her eyes and tried to catch a breath. "I'm sorry. Complicated. Don't—don't pull out of me, either. Just—just hold me."

"Okay." Ben wrapped his arms around her gently and tucked his chin into her shoulder. "Like this?"

"Yes," she said, and leaned her head against his while she tried to get her emotions under control and shoved into words she could use to explain. She took a breath. "Right. It's the—the whole, butting heads, challenge, thing. I'm too stubborn, and I—I think I'm getting off on the idea of someone forcing me to _not_ be, you know, the whole—begging thing—"

"Right," said Ben, stroking damp strands of hair out of her face.

"But when it actually comes down to it," she said, flushed, "I—I'm still too fucking stubborn. I can't let you…win… and I don't know why."

"Win? Rey, this—thing we're doing— it isn't about _winning_ ," he said, twisting a little to look at her. "You've been in control the whole time. It's not a contest, it's a… a dance. Two people working together, not separately." His dark eyes searched her face. "I'm your partner, not your opponent."

"Oh," said Rey, feeling like a moron. Reframing it _did_ seem to help. She considered for a moment and wiped her eyes with her shoulder. "Okay. So if I said—maybe one more go?" In answer, he rolled his hips, and she bit her lower lip hard, fighting a moan. "Oh, my _god._ "

"Then you'll get what you ask for," he whispered, and pressed his hand down to where their bodies were joined, pressing and rubbing and pushing. "And if you ask _very_ nicely—"

"Auugghhhuuhhh," Rey said. " _Ben_ —" He was playing her like a goddamn instrument, her nerves tingling, her thighs—something was building hot and heavy in her belly, and she let out a strangled gasp; she was _so close_ —

He nipped at her ear with his plush mouth and took his hand away. Rey felt herself lose her climax for the fourth time, and finally gave in: she was _desperate_ , she wanted him to hold her down and fuck her until she came everywhere, she wanted—

The words were spilling out of her like a faucet. She barely knew what she was saying, stuck between him and the bed with her hands tied. " _Please_ pleaseplease let me come, lemme come _Ben_ let me come _please_ let me come I've been _good_ I've been good let me _come_ —"

"Fuck," said Ben roughly, and yanked her backward, off the bed, so that they were kneeling on the floor, Rey practically in his lap, squirming on his cock and gasping and babbling. "Fuck, you have no idea how fucking _hot_ you are—"

"Please," she begged, trying to bounce up and down. " _Please_ —"

"Yes," he said shortly, and lifted her off him, dragging them both up to a standing position.

"Noo," wailed Rey, distraught at the loss. She mindlessly ground back against him, trying to get him back inside her. " _Please_ —"

"You've been so patient," Ben said, and put her on the bed on her back, where she lay panting and trying to get a grip. "So patient. Give me—a second—" He shuffled his pants off, kicked them aside, yanked down his boxer-briefs, and crawled toward her on the bed, gripping her by the hips and aligning himself again. "Good. You've been good—"

"Ben," she managed, and reached forward with her bound hands to grab his unbuttoned shirt and yank him forward. The gray material was soft as silk, and she crushed her mouth to his as he pushed inside her again and set a brutal, punishing rhythm.

He broke the kiss, his head pressed to hers. "Rey," he gasped, shucking the shirt off, his voice gone loose and soft and fragile. "Oh, god, _Rey_."

"Tell me," she demanded, clinging to his shoulders. "Tell me how I feel—"

"S-so _good_ —" He was rapidly losing the ability to speak, and one hand found her wrists, shoved them back, and pinned them down over her head to the bed as he kept moving, breath coming short and hard and quick.

Rey felt herself rapidly approaching something familiar again, and stiffened under him. "Ben—I'm gonna—"

"Come," he ordered through his teeth, the words sounding like they were torn out of his throat. " _Come_ for me, Rey, come _now_ —"

She locked eyes with him and thought, _god, he's beautiful_ , and that sent her directly over the edge, her whole body dissolving into warm light and sparks running up her spine and she was soaking wet and hot and it was good, so good, and she was all right.

Above her, Ben was making soft, high-pitched noises, and she remembered through the haze of endorphins that she'd wanted to watch him come, so she opened her eyes and focused. His brows had drawn together in a half-pained expression, and he let go of her wrists to drag his hands down her torso, panting for air. "Fuck—" he said hoarsely, and yanked himself out of her, one hand wrapped around his cock and pumping. "Fuck, _fuck_ —"

"Come on me," Rey demanded, and he let out a little groan. His stomach went tense and hard, and he came, painting her belly as his breath came in half-sobs and he shook like a leaf, all the way through it, until it was over and he was trying to catch his breath, sitting back on his haunches.

"I'll, uh, get you a towel," he said, wiping his forehead with his arm, and slid off the bed, steadying himself for a moment before heading toward the rear bathroom, bare-ass nude.

Rey lay there, staring at the ceiling with its fancy recessed lights. She was warm and lying in a bed about a million times more comfortable than hers, and she began to drift off a little until she was gradually brought back to awareness by a hot washcloth on her stomach, wiping gently. "Hmm," she said, peering through her hair at Ben.

He stole a look at her and looked back down at what he was doing, almost shyly, before setting it aside and reaching for her hands, untying the knot in his necktie. "Uh, you can stay here tonight, if you want," he offered. "It's almost ten, and we have work in the morning."

She rubbed her wrists and smiled lazily at him. "What, I don't get the day off?"

"Tch," he said, tossing his tie aside and lying down next to her. "Me? Giving my PA special treatment? How unprofessional." He sighed deeply in contentment, sinking into the mattress.

She snorted. "I don't suppose you have clothes for me here."

"Oh, right. Clothes. You need those." He rolled over and gave her a critical look. "My housekeeper is extremely insistent I keep women's clothing around 'just in case', so take a look in the last closet on the right and help yourself."

"Housekeeper?" Rey sat up, stretching. "Oof. I'm gonna feel that all day tomorrow."

"I hope so." Ben grinned. "Yeah, Mrs. Kanata. Worked for my mom for years. She's pretty much an aunt at this point."

Rey rolled her eyes and slid off the bed, walking toward the closets.  She rounded the corner and came face-to-face with the huge dressing room she'd walked into earlier that evening. Softly lit, with mirrors and drawers and shelves all tidily organized, it reminded her of a department store. She stepped into the room and headed to the last closet on the right, pushing open the door—she hadn't gone into this one yet, and she was curious: the other two had gotten a quick look before she'd been appalled at the extravagance and left—but—

The lights came up. The room was stocked with women's clothing, shoes, underwear, hairbrushes, combs—Rey opened a drawer and found a stack of neatly folded Calvin Klein underwear, bras, and designer lingerie that looked more expensive than anything she'd ever caught sight of passing a Victoria's Secret. Another drawer revealed a healthy stock of liners, pads, and tampons. _I like this Mrs. Kanata_ , thought Rey, and picked out a pair of bikini briefs, the softest T-shirt she'd ever touched in her life, and a robe off the wall before heading to the bathroom.

The bathroom was what she was most excited about, actually. She'd caught a glimpse of a massive tub through the French doors, and as she stepped into the room and switched the lights on, she let her mouth drop open. The huge, white porcelain soaking tub was to her left under a window that showed off the night skyline, the sink was to her right, and directly in front of her was a door leading to the toilet and a glass-walled shower.

Rey shut the doors behind her quietly and turned back around, taking it all in. The countertops were matte gray, the two sink basins white like the tub and raised off the counter. There were clean towels folded under the sink, so she picked one up and took it over to the tub, then paused in indecision. The shower had two separate heads and a built-in bench, but the tub was _huge_ , and deep enough to practically swim in. She couldn't decide which one she wanted to try more.

"Shampoo. Find yourself some damn shampoo," she said to herself, and a look through some of the cabinets revealed a decent stash of unopened women's toiletries. She wiped her face clean of makeup and stepped into the shower with her arms full of French shampoo and conditioner. The controls were like trying to figure out how a spaceship worked, but she figured it out after some hesitant poking and prodding, and got the rain shower setting to switch on, dumping hot water onto her from above.

It felt like being in a jungle. Rey tilted her head back and opened her mouth, enjoying the shower, before lathering up with a sigh. Ben's razor, a sleek gray metal thing, was sitting in the corner, and she borrowed it to carefully shave her pits. She peered in surprise down at the insanely smooth shave— _does this thing have like, eight blades?_ —and decided she might as well shave her legs while she was at it.

When she was done, she rinsed off and peered over at the other corner of the bench in the shower. Another bottle of shampoo was there, and she popped the lid off one and sniffed it. Yeah, that was _definitely_ his shampoo. It smelled like sandalwood and smoke, and she became intensely aware that she was sniffing her boss—no, her _boyfriend's_ —well, whatever they were, she was sniffing his shampoo in the shower like a total weirdo, and she snapped the cap back on and got out.

* * *

Ben looked over at the bedside clock. It was past ten-thirty, and Rey still hadn't emerged from the bathroom. He was beginning to be slightly worried. It wasn't like she'd been upset after the sex, but still—that minor snag halfway through had been pressing on his mind, and he hoped she wasn't locked in there crying or something.

Not that she seemed the type of woman who locked herself in bathrooms and cried, but it wasn't like he was a mind reader. He didn’t intend to be distant if she _did_ want comforting, but he also didn't want to be an overbearing dick. He did enough of that at work. Besides, this was the most sex he'd ever had in his life in such a short time period, and he didn't want to do something stupid that would fuck that up.

"It's not about the sex," Ben said aloud to himself, and felt like an idiot. Of course it wasn't just about the sex. He made up his mind, and got out of bed, padding over to the bathroom in his sleep pants.

The doors were almost shut, but mostly ajar, and he could hear splashing, but no water running. Rey was singing to herself quietly, slightly off-key, and he could make out the words: "… _dancing with our shoes off, know I think you're awesome, right—"_

Ben nudged the door open, feeling like an idiot. "Uh, hey," he said, and she turned, startled, from where she was sitting up to her neck in water and bubbles in his bathtub. "Thought you might have fallen in."

"I couldn't decide whether I wanted to try your shower or your bath, so…I chose both," she said, giving him an awkward smile. "Uh, I don't normally sing Lorde in the shower. Sorry I subjected you to that."

"You found my secret bubble bath stash," he said, pretending to be stern. "Hmm."

"It smells like vanilla and bourbon," Rey told him. "Of course I was going to try it." She stood up, and he felt a bit lightheaded for a moment at the sight of her, naked and wet with her hair slicked back. "Hand me that towel?"

"Sure," he said, and averted his eyes automatically as he handed her the fluffy white bath sheet. "So, I was thinking—of course, correct me if I'm wrong—"

"This is _not_ a towel," said Rey, sounding shocked. He turned and saw her swathed head to toe in the thing, which wrapped around her head and covered her down to her feet. "What _is_ this?"

"A bath sheet," he said, fighting a grin as he crossed over and pulled the plug on the tub.

"You mean to tell me," she said, staring at him, "that all this time, I've been using measly little _towels_ , and these things _exist._ They’re out there on—on Amazon, or something, and they're _huge_ , and I can buy one and _use it._ "

Ben laughed. "Correct."

She jerked her head and let the extra cloth drape down her back like a hood. "Anyway. What were you saying?"

"I was saying," he continued as she crossed the floor to put on her clothes, "that if you wanted to—I don't know how you feel about sleeping in a bed with someone, you know, it might be weird—you're welcome to any of the spare rooms. If you want. I mean, if you want to sleep with me, I'd be fine with that."

Rey shrugged on her T-shirt and hung the towel over the rod, then turned and looked at him. "You want to sleep with me?"

 _Yes. Please. Let me take you into my bed and hold you and let the first thing I see in the morning be you, please, please don't go—_ "Sure. If that's what you want. I'm not making you do anything you don't want to do."

"Ah," said Rey, and smiled. "Well, lead the way, I guess."

* * *

Rey was pleased to note that Ben had managed to wrestle the stained duvet off the king-size bed and replaced it with a fresh white one, and she climbed into the right side of the bed, feeling her shaved legs slip under the insanely soft, smooth sheets. "Ooh," she said, kicking her legs back and forth. "There's _seriously_ nothing like getting into clean sheets when you've just had a shower. You're never getting me out of here."

Ben crawled in on the other side and lay on his right side, propping his head up on his hand. "Mmm," he said, watching her get comfortable. "I get up at four. You've been warned."

"Four in the _morning_?" Rey pulled the covers up to her chin. "Is that how you're in the office by six every day?"

"Ah," he said, and lay down flat, smiling. "No. I get up, I work out, I shower, I get dressed, I eat, and I go. I won't wake you up until five if you want."

"Oh, how generous," she said dryly, and scooted closer to him in the huge bed until her nose was pressed into his chest. "Mmm. Comfy."

His free hand came down and stroked damp hair off her cheek, almost awkwardly, as if he wasn't sure what he was doing. "You go to sleep," he said softly. "I'll be right here."

Rey began to drift off, and her thoughts became gently disconnected. He lived in this huge penthouse, which could easily have a hundred people over at a given time, but there was nobody here. He lived alone, and the place was as clean and tidy as if it was a show house. The master suite had so much room. King size bed, big enough for three people—the closets, enough for two—the two separate bathrooms. This was a suite designed for a couple, obviously, and here he was, rattling around in this enormous room when any one of the other rooms would have been fine. Didn't it just remind him that he was lonely? _My housekeeper is extremely insistent I keep women's clothing around just in case._ So she wasn't the only one who'd noticed his lack of companionship.

She'd been lonely, too. No immediate family to speak of, for a myriad of reasons she didn't want to think about—but she knew what it was like, to not have anyone to just be with or talk to. And Ben—Ben was nice to talk to and be with.

Half-asleep, she moved closer and wrapped her arm around his torso, sighing in her sleep against his skin. "You don't have to be lonely anymore," she breathed, and his body went less tense and softer, and he curled a big arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

"Neither do you," he whispered in her ear, and they fell asleep like that, two bodies entwined in the center of a bed too big for them while the city outside the dark windows bustled along, its heart of neon and steel and concrete beating out its endless rhythm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done. I think. God if I write more of this it might just kill me, send help!


	6. ACT SIX

Rey bent to the task of double-checking Ben's schedule for the month on the Excel program she'd studiously put together. It was Thursday, so Leia would be in tomorrow: meeting scheduled with Order First, meeting with—

"Rey," whispered Rose, so suddenly that Rey almost jumped out of her seat. The other girl was grinning, looking at her expectantly.

"What?" Rey whispered back. Ben's office door, five feet away, was open a crack, and she didn't dare to raise her voice.

"How was dinner? You never, like, told anyone—"

"It was _really_ good," Rey said truthfully. "And then he took me back to his place."

Rose beamed. "No way. Where does he even _live_?"

Well, it wasn't like she hadn't warned her. "A giant castle in the woods full of bats, and he sleeps in a coffin just like we thought."

Rose choked, and Ben's office door swung open, revealing him standing there and looking extremely imposing. "Miss Tico," he said, and Rose stared at him in horror, the full expectation of being reamed out written all over her face. Rey gave him a look, and he took in it, only the muscle beneath his eye twitching, before turning back to Rose. "Rey is very busy. Would you mind saving the social conversation for lunch?"

"Yes, sir," gasped Rose, and raced off to the hall before he could change his mind.

"Am I really that terrifying?" Ben asked, looking at Rey.

She rolled her eyes. "You're a six-three, two hundred pound man with a voice like a jaguar inside an engine. You tell me."

"I only weigh one eighty, not two hundred—"

Rey handed him a file folder. "Before I forget, that's the contract from Sienar-Jaemus they need you to sign."

"Thanks." He took it, eyeing the contents with concentration.

Rey waited. They hadn't really spoken since Tuesday morning, when she'd woken up in his room, alone in an empty bed, the predawn haze lighting the place in shades of blue and lavender. It had seemed so cold without him, even though she rationally knew he was still in the house, so she'd gotten up and found him in the kitchen.

He'd awkwardly given her a kiss on the cheek through a curtain of mussed hair, said good morning, and told her to get dressed, and she'd done just that. They'd ridden together in companionable silence to work, and that evening she'd walked back to her own apartment and found the water damage all fixed, and a package from Amazon waiting on her step that had contained a brand new iPhone X, which she'd almost been too afraid to activate.

The rest of the week up till now had been nothing but work. No clandestine encounters in the bathroom, not even any flirty banter behind closed doors. He was a difficult man to read at the best of times, and Rey was hoping he wasn't rethinking the whole…thing they had going on.

_Of course he is. It breaks, like, eighty HR rules, probably. I'm his PA. He's my boss._

"We're all looking forward to Ms. Organa's visit tomorrow," she offered.

Ben's jaw tightened a little. "I'm sure you all are. I'll sign this. Thank you." He left without another word, going back into his office and shutting the door.

Rey stared at the handle in confusion and went back to finishing the schedule. She _won't_ text Rose. She will not. She _will not._

 

* * *

 

 ** _Rey  
                _ Okay so like….there's a slight weird thing going on**  
**_Rey  
                _ I need advice**  
**_Rose  
                _??????!!!!!!!!**  
**_Rose_**  
**omg I can SOOOOO HELP whats wrong what is it is his dick not working?? Omg does he want    KIDS what is the issue girl**

 **_Rey_ **  
**NO OH MY GOD DO NOT MAKE ME REGRET TEXTING U ROSE**  
**_Rose_**  
**SORRRYYYY LOL**  
**_Rey  
                _ he's just been weirdly distant for like the whole week and I think it's got something to do with his mom and I don’t know how to help or what to say because…..yk I DON’T feel like it's my business?? yet???**

 **_Rose_ **  
**that's weird??**  
**_Rey  
                _ yeah he mentioned on Monday night that she was at their lake house for family stuff but it was like…he didn't want to talk about it and changed the subject**  
**_Rey_**  
**and then a second ago I just said hey we're all really excited to see ms organa tomorrow, bc you know, she always brings those amazing bagels and also she's super nice and he just… brushed it off and went back into the office**

 ** _Rose  
                _ maybe it has to do with his father??**  
**_Rey_**  
**…father?**

**_Rose  
                _ Ohhhhhh shit uh yeah so like I know this ONLY because kay told me and kay heard ms holdo talking about it with ms organa forever ago but I guess the gist of that whole situation is that ben's dad separated from ms organa when ben was a teenager and he never really got over it**

**_R_ _ey  
                _ ohhhhhh. Shit.**  
**_Rose  
                _ yeahhhh so like maybe the family stuff has to do with his dad?**  
**_Rey  
                _ I mean it's all speculation, maybe ms organa is writing up the paperwork to hand the company over to ben and he's freaking out because of the responsibility**  
**_Rose  
                _ he already practically runs it tho why would that make him freak out**  
**_Rey_**  
**Idk I'm just spitballing here**

**_Rose_  
                well if I hear anything I'll let you know and also I'll ONLY tell kay and paige JUST to see if they've heard anything ok???**

**_Rey  
                _ lmao that's fine**

**_Rose  
                _ you'd tell me if there was something wrong with his dick tho right**  
**_Rey_**  
**ROSE I SWEAR TO GOD**

* * *

Friday rolled around, and Ms. Organa, carrying two boxes of bagels as usual, bustled into Galaxy Accounting and was warmly greeted by everyone in the office. They'd only just implemented Fridays as casual, so Rey showed up in a nice white button-down and black jeans while Poe apparently took it as a cue to wear a Hawaiian print shirt and cargo shorts.

"Ugh, yes, cream cheese," moaned Paige, chewing. "God, I'd die without Ms. Organa."

"I'll just grab one of those and head back to my desk," Rey said, reaching across her.

"Oh, come on. It's _Friday_ , you can't possibly have that much to do." Rose pulled her phone out. "Here. Instagram selfie. Come on." She turned it around and they all posed, making faces, as the camera went off.

"That looks like a potato took it," Paige complained, peering at the screen.

"Here," Rey offered, digging her new phone out. "How about I'll take it and text it to you?"

Rose grinned. "Oh, my god, you're an angel." They both posed, and Rey smiled widely, snapping the selfie before all three of them huddled over it to inspect the result.

"Jesus, that phone is amazing." Paige shook her head. "I gotta get one. We look _awesome_." Rey exchanged a grin with Rose and bent her head, texting her the photo.

"How's everyone doing?" Leia asked, peering at their faces while they nibbled at the bagels. "Poe, is that cat of yours still doing okay?"

"Oh, Beeby's doing _amazing_ ," Poe gushed, whipping out his phone and showing Leia about twenty thousand photos of a fat orange and white tabby. "Look, here's his little _paws_ —"

Ben walked in, and the room went quiet. He clearly had gotten the memo about casual Fridays—or at least half the memo, because he had on a black cashmere sweater that clung to every line of his body, but the rest of him still looked very business formal.

"Ben," said Ms. Organa, smiling. "Have a bagel?"

"No. Thank you. I came to find my personal assistant." His eyes tracked over the crowd and landed on Rey, who had to fight the urge to press herself against the wall at the expression on his face. "Rey, my office, please."

 _Oh, god, what?_ She peeled herself off the back wall and forced herself to walk forward Ben, who turned without  a word and walked out of the room. Even Rose looked taken aback, and Rey pretended nothing was wrong, that it was _totally normal_ to be pulled out of Bagel Friday by her boss.

Her _boss_. Her boss, who she was sort of-kind of-dating, whose enormous shoulders took up half the hallway, whose sweater probably cost more than her rent and whose wake smelled vaguely of expensive cologne. _That_ boss.

Ben held the door open for her and she stepped inside his office, then turned, intending to ask what he wanted. She had just opened her mouth when he stepped into her space and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, then kissed her on the mouth with an intensity that didn't quite feel…right.

"St—mph," she stuttered as he moved her up against the wall. "Ben! What—" What was he _doing_?

"Please," he whispered, something desperate in his voice and eyes, and went for her mouth again.

Rey bit him. Not hard, not enough to draw blood, but he yelped and jerked back, looking betrayed, and she gasped out, " _Stop_!" as she shoved him back. He stumbled away, cupping his mouth, and regarding her with something approaching guilt. "Jesus _Christ_ ," she spat, trembling as she tried to smooth down her shirt. The smell of his cologne was all over her: citrus and vanilla and woodsmoke and amber.

"What's wrong?" he asked, blinking at her.

"What's _wrong_ ," she echoed. "I—I don't know, maybe the fact that you haven't talked to me for four days and now you suddenly want to start everything up _in the middle of the day at work_ —"

"Everyone's in the break room," Ben objected, looking sullen.

As if _that_ was the issue. "—with your _mother_ in the building, and you've been acting weird all week anyway."

"I don't want to talk about my mother," he snapped, and stepped toward her. "I want to think about _you_. I want to forget my personal bullshit for four minutes. Is that too much to fucking—"

"No," Rey ordered, holding a finger up. "You don't get to use me as a stress ball for whatever shit you're going through. That's not how this works." Ben's mouth tightened into a sharp line and he turned away, bending down and pressing both hands to the desk. His shoulders bulged under the sweater, tension cording through his arms and back. "Don't do that," she said, exasperated. "You're shutting me out. Just _talk_ to me."

"No. We're either seeing each other or we're not."

Rey's blood rose. "I guess we're not, then, 'cause you haven't even bothered to text me outside of work for the whole week—"

Ben's body stiffens. "I spent _money_ on y—"

"Fuck you," snarled Rey, and he turned, an unreadable expression on his face. She was too angry to care, and advanced on him, almost spitting with how angry she was. " _Fuck_ you, Mr. Solo. _Money?_ I didn't fucking ask you to drop cash on me, _you_ insisted on all that bullshit and _you_ implied this wasn't some fucking sugar daddy thing. I was _fine_ with my shitty phone and I was _fine_ with just going to fucking McDonald's for dinner, so obviously I'm _not_ in this for money and if you're convinced I am you can _go fuck yourself_."

Ben barely moved. A single muscle under his left eye twitched.

Rey thought in a single instant of clarity, _Oh, God. I am so fucking fired._

His voice, when he spoke, was black and final. "You're no longer employed by Galaxy Accounting. Clear out your desk and go home."

The words sank into her gut like a rock, and blood rushed to her head, filling her ears with a pounding, rushing sound like an ocean, threatening to drown her. Rey opened her mouth to backtrack, to apologize and say she didn't mean it and _please_ would he consider rescinding, but she was saved by the door opening and Leia walking in, catching herself and stopping short at the sight of her son and her son's PA facing each other from across the room. "Oh! Ben. Sorry, have I walked in on something?"

"No. Rey was just leaving." Ben never took his eyes off her, not even while his mother stepped into his office obliviously. "Weren't you, Rey." It wasn't a question.

"Oh, that's all right. You'll need her for what I'm about to say," said Leia, smiling. "Rey, stay a moment. You've got a great memory, so my son won't need to listen to me if you're here."

"Sure," said Rey, trying not to sound strangled.

"Now," said Leia, turning to Ben. "As you know, I've been ironing out all the paperwork down at the lake house for the merger with Resistance Incorporated. I would appreciate it very much if you'd head down there this weekend and double-check my numbers so we don't embarrass ourselves next month."

"A merger?" blurted out Rey, too surprised to remember she was supposed to be fired.

"Oh, yes, but don't worry," Leia reassured her, "nobody's getting fired if I can help it, and if they are, they're getting one hell of a severance package. Resistance is a great firm with extremely solid assets, and after the Windwalker fiasco, we need—"

"Yes," said Ben coldly, "after your wayward son lost a shitload of money for the company due to his bad judgment, you need something stable to back up the books, don't you?"

This was just turning out to be a great Friday. Rey looked at the wall behind Leia's head and tried not to react. Leia sighed gently through her nose and turned to Rey. "In fact, why don't you accompany Ben, Rey? He tells me you rarely make mistakes. It'll be a boring job, but—"

"Oh, I don't think—" began Rey, failing to completely mask her horror as Ben's eyes narrowed into slits.

Leia rushed to reassure her. "It's not a very long trip, only an hour into the state. It's a lovely old place. Belonged to my parents. And of course you'll be working on the clock, with a time and a half bonus for overtime. Can't say no to that, can you?"

"N—no," said Rey, who was beginning to wish she was literally anywhere else at the moment.

"Great! It's settled, then." Leia pressed something into Rey's hand. "There you go. Ben's got the car, and you've got the house key, so he can't run off and do it all by himself. I'll see you both Monday, and don't forget the audits—we need them all the way back to 2009, if you can get them off the hard drives."

"Yes, ma'am," said Rey automatically, gripping the key.

"Well then! I'll leave you be." She smiled at both of them and left, and the instant the door shut Ben let out a deep breath that almost sounded like a growl, his head hanging between his shoulders.

Rey almost wished Leia would come back in, if only to dissipate the tension or maybe distract Ben so she could race into the street and never come back.

"You're un-fired," Ben said shortly, making her jump. "She's right. You rarely make mistakes."

 _Oh, I can think of a couple I've made recently._ "Yes, sir."

"I'll fire you after the weekend," he continued, face still locked in rigid impassivity. "Probably Monday. You can expect it."

"Yes, sir," Rey repeated, the teeth of the key biting into her hand.

"You can leave early today to pack. You're dismissed." He turned around and did not look at her again, and Rey almost raced out of the room, humiliation burning in her cheeks.

 

* * *

 

 ** _Rey  
                _ ohhhh my god. Rose. Rose I'm fucked HELP**  
**_Rose  
                _ in like a GOOD way or**  
**_Rey_**  
**HE FUCKING FIRED ME. AND NOW I HAVE TO GO TO THE LAKE HOUSE WITH HIM AND LOOK AT HIS MOM'S PAPERWORK AND OH WE'RE MERGING WITH RESISTANCE INC AND I'M UNFIRED  TEMPORARILY SORT OF I THINK BUT OHhhHHH MY GOD**

 ** _Rose  
                _?????????????????**  
**_Rose  
                _ slow tf down WHAT DO YOU MEAN FIRED MERGER WHAT**  
**_Rey_**  
**nobody ELSE is getting fired apparently but uhhhhhh I AM because he tried to come on to me in the fucking office and I was like no wtf we haven’t talked in DAYS and he got pissy about it**        

  ** _Rose  
                _ he fired you bc you didn’t want to bang him in his office??????**

 ** _Rey  
                _ no he fired me because he acted like he was entitled to fuck me any time anywhere because he spent money on me**  
**_Rey_**  
**and I might have told him to go fuck himself**  
**_Rose_**  
**!!!!!!!!!FUCKING PREACH but also I'm so sorry, also PLEASE go to ms holdo or HR they're  supposed to help with stuff like this**

 ** _Rey  
                _ what and admit I've been sleeping with my BOSS????**  
**_Rose  
                _ its not like we all don’t already know anyway**  
****_Rey  
                _ I think the fuck NOT god I would die of humiliation id rather be broke than EVER talk about this to ms holdo what if it got back to his MOTHER

 ** _Rose  
                _ ok so WHAT is this about the lake house**  
**_Rey_**  
**right apparently the reason he was so mad and weird and distant was because (I THINK) he views the merger as like some kinda personal attack because of the shit that went down with the windwalker deal. And leia has been working on the paperwork and all the audit shit at the lake house. And she walked in AS HE WAS FIRING ME and asked me to accompany him to double check the numbers and I have the fucking house key so he can't just go without me either and rose I want to literally die**

 ** _Rose  
                _ oh… my… god**  
**_Rey  
                _ I have to pack a bag now but like. Yeah. That’s the deal. What the hell do you even wear to a lake house**  
**_Rose  
                _ ummmm. Comfortable and casual?? I think the weather is supposed to be pretty crisp**  
**_Rey_**  
**fleeces it fucking is then no point trying to look cute now**

* * *

Rey sat outside her apartment building with her one shabby suitcase at her side, her purse strapped around her shoulder, and the house key clutched in her right hand. It was almost eight in the morning, Saturday, and Ben had sent a very short email the previous night informing her he'd be by at eight to pick her up.

The suitcase contained three shirts, a fleece jacket, pajamas, her toiletries, a few books she hadn't gotten around to reading yet (just in case she found the time) and two changes of underwear. For the day, she had gone with her old lace-up boots, a pair of jeans, and a blue cotton button-down over a thermal top: it was freaking brisk outside and she didn't want to freeze.

Her belly was flipping into knots. _Please do not let him axe murder me in the woods,_ she prayed silently to whatever god existed and would listen.

A sleek black Mercedes Maybach pulled up to the curb at exactly eight on the dot, and her heart almost choked her as she stood up. The driver's side door opened, and Ben got out.

The red and gray checked flannel shirt he wore looked about a size too small, snug around his shoulders and biceps. He also hadn't shaved, and the combination of the stubble on his face and the bags under his eyes and the clothes made him look like someone who belonged outside the 7-11 asking for gas money, not the CEO of a Fortune 500 company.

Ben walked over, ignoring her awkward side glances, and picked up her bag almost mechanically, turning and putting it into the trunk. He slammed the trunk shut and made her jump, then turned to the passenger side and opened the door for her. "Get in," he said.

She didn't wait to be told twice.

* * *

The first thirty minutes of the drive was fucking unbearable. They did not look at each other once as Ben automatically navigated onto the highway, out to the bridge crossing over the river that separated the metropolis from the rest of the state, and gunned it up to 80 miles an hour as they reached the hills.

It was Ben who finally broke the silence. "Did you bring rain gear?"

"What?" Rey turned and looked at him, startled.

"Rain gear." He indicated the sky with a finger, hunched over the wheel. "It's supposed to rain this weekend."

"Oh. Um. No."

More awkward silence. "You know your phone has a weather app, right?"

Rey bristled silently and forced herself to take an even tone. "I was preoccupied."

Ben nodded, and they drove on, another ten miles ticking away.

The radio was turned down low, and Rey fought the urge to turn it up, just so they had something to listen to that wasn't the tires of the car hissing on the asphalt. She stared out the window at the autumn foliage instead: yellow and orange and scarlet, cloudy blue sky, trees and hills. The last time she'd been out here was….God, years ago. Field trip or something to a farm, hadn't it been? Vague memories of petting a goat came back to mind. Chickens. A horse. She wondered if Ms. Organa kept horses. Probably not, Ben didn't seem like a riding type and his mother was a little old for that.

"It won't be a long job," Ben said again, breaking the silence. "My mother keeps everything in her study. Organized. Very tidy. Once you're done I can drive you back home. There's no need to stay until tomorrow."

Rey fought to unclench her fists. "If I'm getting time and a half, I'd prefer to stay until I'm satisfied with my work." _Especially since apparently I'll be looking for a new job come Monday._

Ben grunted, and they drove on in silence.

* * *

They pulled up to the lake house just past nine. Rey leaned forward in amazement as they drove past an ivy-covered gate and up a long gravel drive lined with linden trees, which ended in a circle in front of the house: a single-story, white stone, long and low and elegantly cozy French country styled thing with high windows and dark blue shutters.

She didn't wait for Ben to open her door for her, scrambling out as soon as the car engine went silent. It was a gorgeous place, and she could almost imagine being here in the summer: the trees would be green instead of flaming orange and red, and the sky would be blue: the air warm instead of cold—

The crunch of gravel interrupted her daydreaming. "If you're done staring," said Ben, holding her suitcase, "I'd like to go inside."

Oh, right. She had the key. Rey stepped up to the front door, half-afraid to touch it, and unlocked it with fumbling hands, opening it wide and stepping into a decidedly nineteenth century style foyer with a tiled floor, pale green wood paneled walls, and antique furniture.

"Whoa," she said aloud, stopping short.

"I'll show you the bedrooms and the office. Follow me." Ben turned down the hall, and led her into a bedroom with pale blue walls and a massive bed, natural light streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. He set her suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed. "You have a bathroom through that door."

"And… the office?" Rey asked.

He motioned for her to follow, and she did: right out the door and down the hall and into another part of the house (which was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside), directly into a study with a fireplace, a desk with a computer, a pair of chairs, shelves in the curved walls, and books and papers stacked neatly on tables and the floor. Three hard drives sat, dusty and untouched, against the computer desk, and Rey made a mental note to tackle those first.

"You can get started now," said Ben shortly, and turned away, leaving the room.

Rey sighed, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

* * *

It was three in the afternoon and her stomach was growling by the time she got the audits off the old hard drives, and by then the clouds had rolled in and it looked like Ben was going to be right after all: rain was on the way, and a lot of it.

Rey rubbed her eyes with her dusty hands and groaned. Her back hurt and her eyes were sore, and she decided to take a break. After saving the audits and emailing them to Ms. Organa, she wandered out into the hall, looking for the kitchen.

She found a sitting room, and a living room, and another hall, then somehow got turned around and ended up in the bedroom wing again, but soon got oriented and headed back the right way, then found the family room and, at long last, the kitchen, a white and green rustic space with gleaming copper faucets, white enamel everything, and a counter big enough to sleep on. The rain had started falling outside, a drizzle rapidly becoming a steady patter, trickling down the French doors and the windows.

Fortunately, Leia seemed to keep the fridge stocked with microwave meals, and Rey happily dumped a box of pizza rolls onto a plate and stuck them in the oven. While they cooked, she poked around the fridge and the cupboards some more, pouring herself a glass of what the label promised was "probiotic fruit emulsion" but which was definitely just some kind of juice, and—

Ben walked in from the other side of the kitchen. Rey stopped short, juice in hand, and just looked at him. He was swaying slightly, his eyes reddened and his cheeks flushed. "Did you—do you want some pizza rolls?" she asked, sweeping her hand at the microwave. Exactly on cue, the timer went off, and she went over to pull the plate out. "I only have, like, ten, but—"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm good. How's…the work coming?"

"Fine. I got everything off the drives to start with, and once I eat I'll get the spreadsheets checked—" Rey cut herself off and frowned at him. "Are you drunk?"

"No," Ben said again, slightly mulish. "Maybe. None of your business."

"I thought—" Rey set the plate down. "I thought you wanted to drive me home tonight."

"Well, I sure can't do that now, can I?" he asked, sliding into a chair. "Guess we're stuck here. You and me."

"You—you got drunk on _purpose."_ Rey didn't know whether to laugh or start shouting. "You have got to be kidding me." She started chowing down on the pizza rolls, not caring that half of them were nuclear hot and burning her tongue. Thunder rolled ominously outside.

"It's my house," he said stubbornly. "I can drink if I want."

"You know, if you were sober we could actually have a conversation about what happened yesterday," snapped Rey. "And maybe we could work things out. But I guess you're too sloshed to figure that out."

Ben's eyes narrowed, focusing on her. "I'm not that drunk," he insisted. "Just over the legal limit to drive. Three drinks. I can still walk a straight line."

"Three drinks," she scoffed, putting her empty plate in the sink. "Three drinks would have me under the table."

"I'm bigger than you," Ben told her, wrinkling his nose. He leaned against the counter. "And I'd rather have you on the table," he added plaintively, looking down and away.

Her face went hot and she pressed her hands to the cold counter. "Jesus Christ. This is a _business trip—_ we agreed to not bring work into bed—"

"But we're not together anymore, are we?" he asked, looking intently focused on her face. "So the rules don't apply. Let's…let's start over. I'm Ben Solo. What's… what's your name?"

"I'm not starting over," she told him, and his face fell. "You fired me, in case you forgot. Because I didn't want to fuck you in the middle of the day—"

"I un-fired you," Ben corrected, peevish. "And that's not why I did it anyway. I said…" He shut his eyes, steadying himself. "If I wanted a therapist I'd get one."

"You do realize part of being in a relationship is talking about personal shit to each other, right?" Rey asked. "And just talking in general? It's not just having sex all the goddamn time."

"I didn't want…" He shook his head. "I didn't want to be overbearing. Stupid. Dumping shit on you. I thought you _liked_ having sex with me."

"That's not…" Rey rubbed her temples. At least he was opening up, whatever other issue she might have with drinking hours before dinner on a Saturday. "That's not how this works. If you were upset about the merger, why didn't you just talk to me?"

"I didn't want to discuss company shit with an employee. Favoritism. All that shit." Ben waved a hand as if to encompass All That Shit in a gesture and looked at Rey helplessly. "I didn't mean—about the money. I didn't mean I was entitled to you because of the phone. You said I didn't text you. And I thought—the phone and the repairs, I thought that was, like. You know. A message. Or something. And you never responded back."

 _Oh, shit._ Rey froze. "I didn't?" She _had_ to have texted him and said thank you, right? Had she? Shit, shit, _shit._ No. She hadn't. She had been so busy trying to figure out how the damn phone worked and getting it set up and forgetting her Apple password and rushing around all week that she'd never messaged him to tell him _thank you_ for buying her a _thousand dollar phone_. Shit.

"No." Tears welled up in his eyes. "I thought I did something wrong. And then you _yelled_ at me."

Rey pressed her hand to her head. "Oh, my god. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I don't…" Ben shook his head, eyes wet, and scrubbed across his face with a hand. "I don't know how to fucking do this relationship shit."

"We can work on it," she told him, and his eyes flashed up to meet hers, the unspoken question lingering there: _does this mean you want me?_ "I'm good at working on things. Only if you want, though."

"I do want. Yeah. I want—" Ben lurched forward, staggered around the table, and reached out to grasp her by the cheek, then rethought his approach halfway to her face and settled for putting his hand on her arm lightly. "If that's what you want."

"Yeah," said Rey. "Yes. I want—" She shut her eyes, the old stubbornness creeping back in. "I want you. And I want to keep my job. I like it."

"Second chance," said Ben, stroking her arm with his thumb. "Okay. Good. Deal. Signing that off."

Rey grinned. "You need a drink of water and something to eat."

"I wanna eat _you_. Out." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and she pressed her hands to his chest, fighting a grin. "What?"

"You're drunk. I'm not having sex with a drunk person. You can't—you can't consent—"

Ben sighed. "I'm _tipsy,_ I'm not blackout drunk. The only thing I can't do is fucking get it up right now. I've wanted you since we got in the car. The whole road trip. Right now. So's far as I'm concerned, as long as _you_ want me to do stuff—"

"Yeah, okay," said Rey, whose lower body was catching up to the proceedings nicely by this point. "Okay. Yes."

"Good. Take your pants off. Get on the counter." Ben patted the granite top, and Rey scrambled up, sitting on the edge and biting her lip as the coolness of the stone spread into the bottom of her thighs. Ben pulled her knees apart and ran his hand down the front of her briefs, thumb testing the give of the flesh underneath. "I've wanted to do this for a while," he said, almost to himself.

"Do what?" she asked. "You've already fucked me on the counter, in the bathroom, remember—"

"Shh," he said, and rubbed his thumb up and down, across and over, making Rey squeak and jerk and clamp her legs together. "Uh-uh, open them. Like that. Good. No, I'm not gonna fuck you here. I just want to touch you. I want to make you come. You wanna come?"

"Yes," she whispered, gripping the edge of the counter. His hands felt nice, but nothing like her own.

"Talk to me. Tell me how to make it feel good." Ben dragged his thumb in a slow circle. "C'mon, Miss Rey."

"Oh, god," she said, and took his hand in hers. "Right here. Stay to the left— _yeah,_ like that, and press harder— _fuck_ —"

"Like this," he said, moving with surprisingly clinical precision over her. "That's your clit right there? This?" He drummed his fingers back and forth, and she yelped. "Thought so. Shh."

"I've never—" Rey fought a whimper as he started up again. "I've never come from anyone just touching my—my clit—"

"First time for everything," Ben told her, thick fingers still pushing and rubbing.

"Don't get cocky," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. His hands were twice the size of hers, and the pressure was _incredible,_ everywhere and nowhere and she barely felt the cold granite anymore. "Just—just—" She pressed his huge palm insistently against her crux, and he pushed, kneading and rubbing and _yes_ that was exactly what she needed. "Don't fucking stop doing that," she begged, trembling. "Oh, my god. Oh my _god_ Ben, Ben _Ben_ —"

She came. It wasn't the type of climax that made her shriek, but it was _good_ , her whole body cresting a nice warm peak and dissolving slowly into mush as she moaned and caught her breath on the edge of the counter, hair stuck to her face. Outside, thunder clapped, horribly loud and close, and the lights in the house all went off at once, leaving them in the slate-gray, dim light of a late afternoon thunderstorm.

She could have said _shit, let’s go check the breakers,_ or slid off the table under pretense of being frightened. She did neither of those things, and Ben pulled her to the very edge of the table, manhandling her right leg until it was bent against his chest. He smelled very faintly of cologne and whiskey, sweat and damp flannel.

"You have spare underwear, right?" he asked, fingers hooked into her ratty briefs.

"Yes. Why—"

Ben ripped them off. Rey winced as the edge of the strained fabric cut into her leg, but forgot the slight discomfort as his fingers dipped lower, rubbing at her leg, then at the swollen, delicate area directly at center stage and testing how wet she was. "Sorry," he said, and didn't sound sorry at all as he tossed the ruined pair of underwear over his shoulder.

Rey pressed her forehead to his. "You're buying me new ones."

"You don't need them," he said roughly, pressing his thumb over her, back and forth and over again. "I like when you go commando. But if you insist…"

"I do," she gasped, fighting the urge to demand he just fucking get his fingers inside her already. "Ben—"

"Okay. Okay. I know how to do this." He pulled his head back and looked as if he was concentrating very hard, and slowly slid his index finger inside her, all the way to the knuckle, pumping gently. "Yeah. Just like that. You think I can find your G spot like this? You can't reach it yourself, probably, with those little fingers. I read that online."

"Ohhhh, my god," said Rey, who didn't know what to do with her hands. "Give me another fucking _finger—"_

He obliged, slipping the middle up to join the index, and she choked, bringing her fingers up to clutch at his shirt. "Jesus Christ, you're wet. Why're you so wet and tight, huh?"

"I'm _not_ tight _,_ your fingers are too fucking big," she spat, unable to jerk herself forward in the bent-leg position and unable to lean back. "Fuck, _fuck_ —"

Ben pressed his free hand to her abdomen, his head nestled in the crook of her shoulder. "I'm gonna take care of you," he whispered, breath trailing across her throat, pumping his wrist slowly as she writhed on the counter. "Shh, shh. Trust me, Rey. You trust me?"

"Yes," Rey wailed. " _Yes_ , I trust you, fuck—"

"One more finger. You can take it. Okay?"

" _Yeah_ —"

And there it was. His fingers, aided by the outside pressure, brushed against something _different_ , and suddenly Rey felt like she desperately needed to pee, but she recognized the sensation instantly: _oh my god, he really hit my fucking G spot._ She looked down to see him buried three fingers deep to the knuckles, her swollen flesh stretched around him, and whimpered as he stroked it again, and again, and again, curling his fingers inside her. "C-can't—the k- _kitchen_ —" she stammered, rapidly losing the ability to be coherent as her body raced toward the finish line.

"Come all over the kitchen if you want to. Scream. Choke me out. I don't give a fuck." Ben pressed his mouth to her neck, and a half-crazed shriek tore its way out of her throat, turning into a primal yell she hadn't known she was capable of making as she came and _came_ all over him, his shirt, the counter, the floor. He held her closely as she went limp and loose, then pulled his fingers out and picked her up carefully, her head resting on his shoulder, carrying her into the nearest bedroom and setting her on the bed. Rey wasn't even sure what room she was in, and looked around bleary-eyed as he went to the bathroom and she heard water running. The ceiling was nice, though. Nice molding. Panels. Something.

Ben came back out with a washcloth and wiped her down carefully, all the way down to her ankles. She hissed as the rough material scraped across her tender parts, and he murmured apologies and kissed her thigh. The buttons on his shirt were missing. Had she done that? She couldn't remember.

"Sorry," she mumbled, shutting her eyes.

"Nothing to apologize for," he said, his thumb tracing her jawline. "Hey. Over here."

Rey found him and tried to focus. It was so dark, and she felt like every bone in her body had been replaced by Jell-O. "Yeah?" He was sitting on the bed, right by her side.

"I'm gonna do better. I promise you."

"Okay," she said, not remembering what he was talking about exactly.

"And I'm not firing you on Monday."

"Thanks," she slurred, and suddenly remembered: the audits, the spreadsheets, she still had to work on them and _the power was out,_ they didn't have hard copies, _shit_. "What are we gonna do about the power?"

"Wait for it to come back on." Ben stroked her hair out of her face. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah," she whispered, nodding. "Please." He leaned down and found her mouth with his, and his warm tongue slipped across her bottom lip hesitantly, as if he was afraid to make a quick move. She let him go as he sat back up, and smacked her lips. "You taste like scotch."

Ben snorted. "Well, you taste like pizza rolls."

"Sorry, I forgot you don't eat _peasant food_ ," she teased, grinning.

"I might, on occasion, eat a bagel bite. Or a Hot Pocket." Ben kissed her on the cheek. "It's really coming down out there."

"I should clean the floor—" Rey sat up, legs feeling as if they definitely were _not_ up to the task of moving, and Ben shook his head.

"I'm cleaning. You take a nap. You deserve it."

"Okay. Ben—" He looked back, and she swallowed, then looked at the floor. "I'm sorry about the miscommunication. And—I really love the phone. Thank you."

Ben's lips parted and he looked almost _shy_ , standing there with his huge body and awkward face. "I—I'm glad you do," he said. "It's working okay?"

"It's perfect. You picked out the perfect one for me."

He blushed down to his throat and rubbed his nose with a hand, smiling. "I—I—good," he said, and hurried out of the room.

Rey lay down on the bed and pulled a blanket up to cover her bare lower half. _I should get my suitcase,_ she thought drowsily. _Maybe a shower._

_If the power comes back on._


End file.
